Over the Rainbow of Grey
by AutumnKiss
Summary: In a reality where LV rules, Snape will do almost anything to forget the events that condemned him to a mediocre life. However, when a casual affair turns dark, he is faced with a dilemma. Will the unscrupulous wizard see the error of his ways before the unthinkable happens? HGSS, but NOT a classic romance! AU! AU! AU! No prophecy. Lemons with a plot. JKR is the goddess of HP.
1. A Grey Reality

**Don't hate the writer. Love the imagination! **

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**Author's Comment: If mature content or darkness offends you, PLEASE skip this story. Thanks :)  
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The war was over. It ended during the summer of 1980 after the Battle for the Ministry. The surprise attack crippled the Order of the Phoenix and those Aurors loyal to the Order. Few escaped. Those captured, were quickly charged with fear mongering and abetting the muggle scourge. Their crimes ranged anywhere from inciting hatred to blood betrayal with a few carrying the blame for atrocities committed by Death Eaters. The newspapers twisted the truth so horribly that some, many of whom were silent supporters of the resistance, began to question their agenda. Within months, all that remained of the Order was dead, lost to mockery and despair. A new regime with scores of laws concerning class and muggleborn infestation arose, sweeping away what remained of liberal tolerance. Muggleborns were reduced to second-class citizens, just above half-humans. Many lost their jobs, pensions, and much of their hard earned respect, but thankfully, not their lives. When the time came to declare war on the Muggle World, they would be expected to fight on the front lines and make the ultimate sacrifice in order to protect the purebloods. It was the price they paid for continued access to the Wizarding World, though the new mandates provided them with few rights and opportunities.

Among those tried for war crimes was Sirius Black, James Potter and his wife, Lily; Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and the Auror, Alice Longbottom. Bellatrix Lestrange and Bartemius Crouch, Jr. killed Alice's husband, Frank and his comrade, Mad-Eye Moody during the final attack. In an effort to save his own skin, Pettigrew quickly turned witness for the Wizengamot, condemning Longbottom and Black to Azkaban with his testimony. Remus, due to his status as a werewolf, received banishment, while his wealthy pureblood friend, James Potter, surrendered half of his fortune in restitution. His muggleborn wife, Lily, received leniency on the condition that she never practice magic again. She, like so many others, had their wands publicly broken.

The media portrayed the self-appointed High Chancellor, Lord Voldemort, as merciful and just, claiming that he had no desire to cripple the already thinly populated Wizarding World. Only dangerous offenders would receive prison sentences. He even went so far as to release Albus Dumbledore from Azkaban the following summer and restored him to the post of Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unbeknownst to the people, his messenger, Severus Snape, received the post of Potions Master around the same time. He was responsible for keeping an eye on the old man. At the first sign of trouble, Dumbledore would be publicly shamed, imprisoned, and quietly dispatched.

Severus reluctantly accepted the task, wishing instead that he could join his esteemed pureblood brethren at the Ministry. As the years passed, his bitterness grew. He observed his significance diminish with a heavy brow. Excluding the occasional summons, he no longer served any real purpose and after a decade of inactivity, Voldemort took upon himself to rescind his Death Eater privileges and reduce him to noble informant; a devastating blow to the wizard who once believed in him.

Seventeen years later, Severus Snape found himself on the receiving end of a grim reality, one he helped to create. He was a washed up Death Eater chained to a thankless, menial assignment. Drearier still, was the Wizarding World itself. Few possessed the power to escape their birth or the aristocracy – not squibs, certainly not muggleborns, not even the last generation of legal half-bloods.

They were all damned.

* * *

Grimacing aloud, the Potions Master eased back into his chair and gazed up at the ceiling. It had been a long day, followed by an even longer evening with Professor Quirrell babbling on about his latest strategy to win an audience with the High Chancellor. The idiot had been planning the same meeting for years with no success. Even the Headmaster gave up trying to convince Quirinus that it was useless. Voldemort had no interest in an unsung Dark Arts Professor and half-blood.

"Careful," growled Snape, snapping down at the seventh year.

Amber eased her frantic bob, allowing her swollen lips to slide over his glistening mushroom sweetly. She hadn't meant to scrape him, but she wasn't particularly skilled at blowjobs. She was only there because she overhead a Slytherin say that his Head of House liked a little head after supper. She met him afterwards and offered, figuring he might be interested in a small exchange. He seemed less than thrilled by her nervous proposal, but accepted it anyway. Beggars couldn't be choosers and it wasn't every evening that such an offer came about.

_Well then, let's see what you can do. On your knees ..._ he said cruelly, unfastening his trousers.

Ministry Personnel only considered applicants with a letter of recommendation. Although Snape was a retired Death Eater, he was still an honorary member of Voldemort's inner circle. A letter from him might go a long way in securing a job once she graduated. It was still early, barely October, but it was never too early to start planning ahead.

"Will you sign the letter tonight?" she panted, wiping a string of spit from her chin.

Severus choked back a sigh. He liked it nasty.

"We'll see," he rasped, dragging her vacant mouth back down on his twitchy member. "No more talking …"

Amber opened wide and let his fleshy length disappear into her gaping void.

"Yes … that's it, swallow it …" he murmured, guiding her face deep into his lap.

Nettle resisted, but Snape persisted, vigorously guiding her full, stretched lips over his girth towards his dark crotch. Puffing, she tried to apply pressure to his motionless tool, now seeping with pre-cum, but it tasted strange. More than that, he was uncomfortably deep! The gagging noise that followed seemed to please him. She felt him grow another inch.

High on lust, the wizard began to swivel his hips, corkscrewing the witch's face.

"Breath through your nose," he murmured, ignoring her muffled objection.

The scene was a typical one, some permissible student on her knees taking his manhood in one hole or another. He never forced the girls, but he wasn't above coercion in a pinch. Sometimes they agreed to shag him for a better grade; other times, they did it because they needed help with some Ministry matter, but most of the time, it was because they saw him in a much better light than he saw himself. They all knew he carried the mark and not everyone was privy to one. Being a man of few morals, there wasn't much Severus Snape wouldn't do or use to his advantage. If they were foolish enough to use him, who was he to refuse?

The Headmaster was stiffly aware of the Potion Master's extracurricular activities, but he had begrudgingly accepted it years ago. He was willing to overlook the occasional indiscretion so long as the girls were of consenting age. The world had changed dramatically since the war and innocence was a luxury that no one could afford. Though the Houses remained unique and separate, a Slytherin code of ethics ruled the magical world. In a sense, they were all Slytherins now. If an intimate moment behind a warded door provided the girls with a brighter future, so be it. If he felt sorry for anyone, it was the boys. Most wizards had to earn credit the old-fashioned way, although there were exceptions.

Snape wasn't sly, but in the absence of pussy, he'd a bugger a wizard if it meant he could get a little relief. Like the girls, they had a choice, but unlike the girls, they didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of seducing him. Snape wasn't a bottom nor was he tempted by sissy affections. If anything, he found the idea repugnant! Still, on those lonely nights when he had nothing better to poke, he'd escort whoever should offer into a dark closet or remote niche and pleasure himself. There was no kissing or touching beyond what was needed. Those that tried paid dearly for the error.

The most notorious incident happened early in Snape's career when a Ravenclaw beater cornered him in his office after a Quidditch match. He made him an offer, an offer that Snape accepted on specific terms. Ignoring those terms, the wizard made the terrible mistake of surprising him with a kiss afterwards. Sometime later, he waddled into the infirmary with a slippery device protruding from his anus. His bat was visible and pumping. The nurse recorded it as a prank gone awry, but the Headmaster knew the boy and his preferences and quickly surmised what really happened. He even spotted Snape's wicked smirk when the sore young man shuffled into the Great Hall two days later.

Amber finally tore herself away from the Professor's lap.

"No more," she gasped. "I can't …"

Snape cuffed the Gryffindor's chin and stood.

Somewhat disappointed, he breathed, "... just sit there," as he fisted his shiny erection.

The witch's patchy red, spit covered face provided all the inspiration he needed. Severus also liked that she looked a bit dazed. He was going to enjoy plastering her sweet, chubby face. She would undoubtedly remember it for the rest of her life. He hated nearly everything and everyone, but he managed to carve a few perks out of his miserable existence.

*Grunting*

The wizard became tall and rigid when a familiar tension surged through his scrotum. It hailed the succulent end. With a gritty smile, he aimed his member at the Gryffindor's face, coating her cheeks, forehead, and mouth in streaks of white goo. Amber screwed her eyes shut when the Professor dipped his spurting mushroom between parted lips and gently pumped. Grimacing from the texture and taste, she silently endured the sullying until he finished.

Groaning aloud, Severus collapsed on top of the witch's head, allowing his manhood to deflate slowly inside her mouth. It was a hole for his lust, but there were better holes out there. The best shags generally came from Hufflepuff. Ravenclaws were far too haughty and Gryffindors far too lazy. He rarely had sex with students from his own House, mostly on principle, but also because they weren't desperate enough to need his help. If the Gryffindor planned to succeed, she would need to learn fast, marry well, or work incredibly hard.

Snape carefully withdrew his tool, allowing the tip of his saggy member to graze her soiled lips before tucking it back into his robes and retaking his seat.

"You need practice," he dryly informed, dropping a handkerchief on her face.

Amber opened her eyes and removed the cloth. Embarrassed, she swallowed and frowned. She did what he asked so what was he complaining about?

"Wipe your face and go," he muttered, not looking at the Gryffindor. "We're finished."

The silky, somewhat seductive, Potions Master had morphed back into the greasy git everyone knew and loathed. He cared for no one, especially his conquests. He always treated them like disposable rubbish, something to be flushed when it was over.

"Sir, what about the letter?" she asked, passing the stained cloth back to him.

"Keep it," he sneered, waving the witch off. "You will have it, but as I said, your letter will only be as good as your service – so don't expect very much. You can pick it up tomorrow after midday meal. Leave me!"

Now deeply ashamed, the Gryffindor blinked back her tears and turned away from the Slytherin. She did her very best to please him … _the audacity!_

Sadly, she wasn't in a position to tell the ungrateful wizard what she thought of him, but one day she would be. Someday, he'd regret his cruelty. One day she'd be successful and respectable, a real honor to know, but not today. Tonight, she was the dirty little rival that helped the overgrown bat of the dungeons get off! At least, she stood to gain from it.

_Anyone who aspires to be anyone, starts out on the bottom ..._ she told herself.

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**A/C:** Before you proceed, please be advised that this is not a canon-personality story or a classic romance! It also contains mature content not suitable for sensitive readers. Thank you :)


	2. Do Not Disturb

Snape mulled over his lunch in silence. He wasn't a huge fan of ham and asparagus, but he wasn't particularly hungry. Unlike his colleagues, he seldom troubled the elves with special orders, choosing instead the quickest option. He only appeared at meals because his duty as the Head of Slytherin House. It was good for morale and his authority for his students to see him outside of the classroom now and again.

Severus tried to ignore the not-so-subtle glances from the Head of Gryffindor. She looked prickly, as if she wanted to say something, but she was waiting for an invitation. It bothered him whenever she took an unnatural interest in his dining. It usually meant he was up for a lecture. Although she was the Deputy Headmistress, she had no muscle other than the power of annoyance, which he tolerated out of modest respect.

"We missed you at breakfast this morning, Professor Snape. I certainly hope your absence wasn't the result of being overworked. Speaking of work, how was your evening?" she asked in a chilly tone.

Severus paused over his plate.

"Uneventful," he soon said, sensing her suspicion and the question behind the question.

In all likelihood, she had bumped into Miss Nettles entering Gryffindor Tower after hours. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't written her a pass. Not that it mattered. She propositioned him. She should have planned the rendezvous more carefully and allowed for more time. He wasn't some randy young wizard that squirted on contact.

"Miss Nettles arrived after curfew last night. She claimed that her detention with you ran over," the witch said pointedly, pausing for a response. Snape gently sliced his ham, seemingly unperturbed. "I found it strange that she didn't have a pass."

Offering the witch a dull snort, Severus let his lips slide over his fork thoughtfully. The teachers were well aware of his carnal privileges, but he did his best not to make it obvious. His discretion was a matter of professional courtesy, not fear. It was a school after all and despite the occasional tryst, his focus rested on education. If the High Chancellor wished him to abide a stricter moral code, he need only say so, but he didn't take much interest in him or his activities anymore. Although he avoided McGonagall's brats out of general distaste, he rarely turned down an interlude when the opportunity arose.

"It must have slipped my mind," he purred, playing along. "If makes you feel any better, I'll be sure to assign her detention with Mr. Filch next time. I certainly won't miss her company."

Minerva's fiery glare cooled. His meaning was clear as rain. It wasn't as if he was going out of his way to mince words. Whatever the young woman did for him, she certainly hoped it was worth the contempt he felt for her now.

Minerva broke eye contact and returned to her meal. She didn't speak another word to the wizard for the rest of lunch, which gave him a reason to gloat. It wasn't every day that he got under the Head of Gryffindor's skin.

_Serves her right_, he thought, glancing down the table at the one wizard who had the ability to make him feel anything remotely close to shame. The Headmaster was making a show of seeming disinterested, but Severus could see that he was troubled about something.

Snape set his fork down and concentrated on his beverage. Although he didn't expect civility, it would have been a refreshing change from the gurgling scorn his colleagues always showed him. Had he earned their disdain? Yes, a hundred times over, but they had never liked him, even as a student – especially, Dumbledore. He proved that when he turned a blind eye to his beloved marauders after they tried to have him mauled to death! Granted, many years had passed since that fateful night and much had changed, but it was forever burned into his disposition. Even Minerva brushed off the attack, chalking the terrifying episode up to a horrible misunderstanding. She treated him like some miserable, underprivileged head case with a chip on his shoulder; that he should have been grateful to James!

James Potter.

Severus cleared any debt owed to him the day he convinced his liege and the Wizengamot not to sentence him and his wife to prison. It was also his last favor to Lily. He had loved her, but she had spurned him over a blurb! He had apologized profusely and sincerely, but she refused to forgive him, disposing of their long friendship like garbage. A few short years later, she hauled off and married the swine that had tortured him all through school – a monstrous betrayal.

If they didn't like the man he was, they had only themselves to thank. They all helped to make him – they and that unforgiving chit. Yes, Severus Snape reviled his mind-numbing life, but not half as much as the men and women who help make it possible.

Snape turned a cold eye down the Gryffindor table. Mercifully, Harry, the boy with his mother's eyes, wasn't there. Of course, he would see him later that day. He didn't deserve to call himself an advanced potions student, but he allowed it for the simple pleasure of tearing the young wizard down every chance he got. It even earned him a visit from his father in his fourth year. He'll never forget the look on Potter's face when he hexed him out of his office. The former Quidditch Captain landed on his arse like a sack of potatoes in front of idiot son. James hadn't the nerve to raise his wand to him. He knew the kind of clout he carried.

_Bugger them all,_ he thought. _Maybe I should give Miss Nettles another go …_

* * *

Gripping her essay on _Historic Elixirs and their Modern Counterparts_ tightly, Hermione knocked on Professor Snape's office door and waited. She had been planning what she was going to say all morning. She had to speak with him before she lost her nerve. How could she give her an 'A'? She spent two weeks writing that paper! It met all of his criteria points!

When Professor Snape didn't answer, she carefully knocked again.

_Remember – calm,_ she told herself, willing her face into something stately.

* * *

Amber gripped the edge of Snape's desk and squealed. Her legs dangled helplessly over his shoulders, offering no traction or balance as she tried to scoot herself back on the surface.

"Someone is at the door," she panted, tapping the stirring head between her thighs.

The wizard slowed his exploration and looked up.

"They can _wait_," he hissed, whipping a few tousled strands from his line of sight.

Snape was an unsightly, austere looking man with the disposition of a gravedigger, but in her state of mind, it all translated into darkly striking. Amber found it difficult not wet herself knowing that he was down 'there' doing 'that' between her legs! His mouth felt so nasty, yet so unimaginably good.

"I think it's important ..." she swallowed. " ... they won't go away."

The Potions Master held the witch's gaze and reached back under her skirt. Smirking, he gently spread her folds and slowly sank back down, answering her objection with a silent 'they can bugger off' lick. Her eyes became senseless when he dragged his flattened tongue over the length of her slit and closed his lips around her swollen nub. His harsh sucking drew an 'oh my god' gasp from the Gryffindor.

_Talented git…_ she thought, enduring the delicious pressure with a bouncy yelp.

Amber wasn't sure what had come over the wizard since their last encounter, but the Professor seemed particularly randy when she stopped by that afternoon to pick up her recommendation letter. He offered to write a better one if she agreed to let him sample her wares. Naturally, she filled with pride, figuring he had come around and realized that she _was_ worth his time after all.

'_Call it dessert,'_ he told her, softly guiding her into this undignified, but holy ravenous position.

Panting quietly, Amber's lids began to flutter wildly when the wizard inched down and started orally molesting her canal. His petite thrusts were so wet – so nasty, that its softness filled the tiny distance between them.

"Professor …" she cried, drawing a silky chuckle from the man below.

* * *

Hermione folded her arms and leaned against the door. The note nailed to it said, _Do Not Disturb_, but the sign was always posted whenever his door was closed. It probably meant he was working on a special brew or marking papers. It seemed unlikely that she was interrupting a conference, since most teachers used the free period after lunch to mark papers or relax in the lounge. Her schoolmates would have assumed that he was 'busy' with some silly wannabe and given up already, but she didn't put a lot of stock in gossip or the brainless twits that spread it.

_That's just disturbing …_

The student part of her brain quickly banished the idea before it could form.

_He's probably just ignoring the knock,_ she told herself.

Hermione was convinced (for the most part) that the rumors weren't true; that Dumbledore would never allow such a thing, but since spotting the wizard billowing out of the owlery with Daisy Davenport last spring, her little girl ideas were beginning to change. It was a Slytherin world, with Slytherin ideals, far removed from the generation of pre-war times. It was also hard to dismiss the look of indignity and funny walk as Daisy trailed behind him. Maybe she just didn't want to believe it. There was enough scandal in the Wizarding World. There was no need to invite that sort of thinking into Hogwarts.

The witch had no idea how close to correct she actually was with one exception. The world had changed. Hogwarts was apart of that world and apart of that change. Albus Dumbledore knew this and did little to upset his position, considering that he was the last link to fairness that any of the students had. He knew he was still on Riddle's radar and though he was sure there would be a reckoning someday, he had to play along to get along.

* * *

_The Previous Spring ..._

Snape received a note from the Head Girl asking to him to meet her in the owlery after dinner. Of course, it was the usual story. She needed his help and offered a favor-for-favor if he agreed to convey a personal message to one of the High Chancellor's aides. Severus had little contact with the High Office, but he allowed the girl to think that he could do what she asked after she insisted that it was a matter of great importance. If nothing else, he would leave the message with Lucius in the vague hope that it would reach its destination.

When it came time to make the exchange, Daisy sank to her knees, reached into his robes and began unfastening his trousers. Her eagerness excited the Slytherin, but she had assumed too much. He had other plans for the pureblood and leaned forward. Although his voice barely registered above a whisper, his request resonated loudly across the girl's face. Her perfect plan seemed to grow smaller in her eyes, taking with it the color in her cheeks.

Her hesitation had no effect on the dark man peering down through his black, oily curtains. Either she was willing or she wasn't, but she wouldn't get a thing until he had gotten what he wanted. She needn't pretend she was innocent either. He may not have been an active Death Eater, but he was still connected.

With a halfhearted nod, the witch slid off her knickers and assumed a mountable position. It was a git of a request and wildly strange, but in Snape's mind, a reasonable exchange. After all, they were in an owlery and he wasn't sure when he'd get the opportunity to play out this little fantasy again.

Hard with anticipation, the Professor made quick work of unsheathing his cock and kneeled. Flipping her skirt over, he observed her smooth, perfectly trimmed thatch with complete detachment as he angled her backside and spat into his hand. Some of the owls ruffled their feathers in protest. Dirty little trysts like these weren't uncommon, especially in such a remote place, but they didn't particularly like having their home defiled.

Snape pressed his thick helmet against the witch's backdoor and paused. He wanted to savor the moment. Davenport was the type of girl that always made fun of skinny, awkward boys like him in school. She was lovely from nose-to-nail, a near perfect ten and well admired. She had fooled many into believing that she was a respectable witch, but he knew the truth. The weasel she was so willing to take one up the derriere for was a married man with two children and a pregnant wife.

"_Remember to hoot or NO deal," he cruelly hissed, squeezing himself passed her tight little sphincter with a satisfying moan._

With a squishy squint, Daisy's mouth and voice formed an ugly 'O'._  
_

* * *

Hermione didn't see the Professor do anything wrong, but Daisy's flustered face, unruly hair, and goofy waddle said something was off. She kept peeking over her shoulder at the dark git trailing after her. The Professor looked positively smug!

Frustrated, the Gryffindor turned around and knocked again. She knew he was in there and she didn't give a rip if he wanted to see anyone or not. She couldn't leave until she knew why he had given her an "A"!

* * *

Abandoning his oral assault, Snape returned to Amber's swollen nub and gently replaced his tongue with his bony, middle digit. He had only inserted it a portion of the way when he was forced to stop. There was a thin barrier obstructing his passage.

"Not that!" the witch gasped, forcing herself into a rational state of mind.

Groaning, the wizard retracted his finger and traced her folds. His touch, like his voice, was velvety and eased her tension immediately. He was capable of such tenderness when inspired to do so and even greater cruelty when provoked. Amber went half-lidded when the Professor began greedily consuming her small tit once again. The motion from his angry enthusiasm caused her legs to bounce off his shoulders like jello, sending her into a silent frenzy.

"Yyyyes," she stammered.

Snape suckled the witch's nub for a full minute before abruptly letting go and pulling back with a hearty gasp. He studied her thatch, observing it arrogantly for a brief moment. Her pretty little treasure was ripe with need. One good stick and she'd explode! Smirking, the wizard lowered her skirt and looked around. It was enough that he had aroused her to the point of madness. She could finish on her own.

"Get dressed," he said windily, reaching for her discarded knickers on the floor.

Dazed and confused, Amber opened her eyes and looked down. He was still seated with her legs draped over his shoulders, but the magic was gone. In an instant, he had gone from hotly captivated to completely uninterested. What did she say wrong?

"I don't understand," she said weakly, still reeling from his expertise.

Snape leaned back, letting her legs drop waist-side, and tossed up her panties. He wouldn't take what she didn't want him to have, but he wasn't interested in this little distraction if he wasn't at liberty to do as he pleased. He wasn't a popular man or a handsome man, but he had options. More to the point, there was someone at the door.

"Don't fret, Miss Nettles. You've earned your letter of recommendation, but right now there is someone waiting to see me." He told her blandly, straightening his tousled hair and crooked cravat.

Blinking, the silvery looking witch closed her legs and eased off his desk. As she quietly slipped back into her knickers, her thoughts raged on. She had been rejected a second time, only this time, there was terrible ache between her thighs. No one had ever explored her so deeply or taken her that high. Of course, she was a virgin, but she seriously doubted any of the boys her age would even know how. She was completely sex-smitten.

"Should I come back?" she said hopefully, plotting out his schedule in her mind. He normally ate supper around six and was back in his office by seven.

Snape stopped toying with his cuffs and looked up with a puzzled expression. He detected a speck of longing in her voice, which made him very uncomfortable. He didn't want her getting any silly ideas about them, this, or that. It was over. They each had what they wanted.

"Only if you plan to _fuck _me," he said blackly, his eyes hard and full of meaning.

Stunned and embarrassed, Amber looked away. Her reaction told the Professor all he needed to know.

"Your request will be on my desk in the morning. I suggest you pick it up then. Good day, Miss Nettles," he spat, relieved that he had erased the twinkle from her eyes.

* * *

Granger jerked away from door when Amber Nettles suddenly opened it and stepped out. She seemed to be in a rush, but stopped cold when she saw her housemate standing rather awkwardly in her path.

"Oh … um, Hi – Hermione," she said sheepishly, stopping long enough for the witch to absorb her blotchy, red face and wrinkled uniform.

Amber sensed Hermione's curiosity and ran her hands over her disheveled state embarrassingly. "I forgot to have the elves iron my uniform last night," she explained.

Hermione tried to look like she believed the witch.

"Oh, I do that all the time," she cheerfully lied, wondering if she should say something else.

Nettles tried to compensate with a generous smile.

"He's all yours!" she said merrily.

Amber kicked herself for the nervous blurb when she saw Granger bristle uncomfortably. She dearly hoped that her housemate didn't blab her suspicions to anyone. It was obvious that she had them, but she didn't want to get a bad rep. She wasn't one of "those" girls – not really.

"Thanks," said Hermione, nudging passed her housemate with a peculiar nod.

Granger tried to dismiss the odd feeling creeping into her shoulders. As a brainy muggleborn with a book fetish and second-class citizenship, she didn't have many friends and couldn't afford to judge the few she had. More importantly, she didn't want to consider what her over-sized brain was pushing her to think. Sometimes ignorance was truly bliss.

Amber waited until she heard the door click before tearing herself away from its shadow. She silently pondered why Granger was there and whether she had an _appointment_. Was she the reason why Professor Snape had ended their session so abruptly? Knowing the bookworm the way she did, her being there was probably legitimate. Still, there was a note on the door that said, _Do Not Disturb_. If she didn't have an appointment, why would she ignore it? Everyone knew better than to bother the Professor when he was busy.

_You're reading too much into it_, she thought, glancing back at the dark door skeptically.

* * *

**A/C:** Tut, tut ...


	3. Late Night Regrets

Hermione entered Snape's Office to find him marking papers at his desk. Unlike his previous guest, he was in proper form, not a single button or greasy strand out of place. The wizard shot her a jaded glance when she closed the door, but said nothing. Seeing this, she steeled herself and approached, but stopped short when she caught the faint scent of lilac and something else. She couldn't make it out, but it wasn't an office smell. All the natural odors were present: parchment, ink, books, dusty bottles …

After a moment, the Professor noticed the silence and glanced up. Granger was looking around, seemingly baffled by something. Amused, his mind chuckled when he spotted her nostrils flare. It appeared that the smell of sex was a foreign fragrance to the bookworm.

"What is it, Miss Granger? Why did you interrupt me?" he blurted, breaking the witch's concentration.

Hermione snapped to attention.

"Interrupt? Did I interrupt something?" she replied, moving forward.

The wizard carefully examined his pupil's face for meaning. He quickly deduced that she had innocently spoken out of turn; that her suspicion was limited to whatever it was that she was detecting. He hadn't brought Nettles to climax so what was she sniffing?

When he didn't answer, Hermione changed the subject.

"Sorry, sir – I only stopped by to speak with you regarding my essay …"

Snape digressed into a dull brood. He should have guessed. His afternoon had been going too well for it last.

"Why was I given an A? I did everything you asked and cited all of my sources! Honestly, Professor, I think there's been some kind of mistake."

Severus pinched his nose and sighed. Was it too much to ask that his students at least try to figure out why they received the grades they did?

Dropping his hand, he looked up and said, "I am quite sure that you spent days, even weeks researching and copying all the necessary dates and ingredients for the extinct brews, but that's all it was, a well copied paper!"

Hermione opened her mouth to say what she had rehearsed, but Snape continued.

"I asked for a critical analysis, not a then vs. now listing. I wanted to hear your thoughts, your voice, not just the ideas of alchemists, historians, and publishers. Truthfully, I thought the paper deserved a 'T' but you got a little credit for penmanship," he said thoughtfully.

"Professor that's not true and if it is true, that's not fair! You only asked to us to write a comparison, not a … a full narrative!"

Wobbling his head sardonically, the Slytherin mouthed the words 'that's not fair' with a sneer. The mockery wasn't lost on the Gryffindor standing there with her hands poised over her hips.

"Please don't make fun of me, sir," she said a bit dejectedly. "I deserve better. I worked hard on that paper."

Under normal circumstances, Severus would have ripped Granger a new one for ignoring his _Do Not Disturb _sign, but he was in an uncommonly good mood. He gave her the grade he thought she deserved. There was nothing to discuss.

Tipping his fingers in a prayer-like pose, Snape eased back into his chair and observed the witch with a slow, bodily glance. Had she been the sort to stoop, he might be tempted to offer her an alternative, but (A) he was still sated from the night before and (B) she wasn't his type. She was far too obnoxious! It was probably the reason why she didn't have many friends and why she spent most of her free time studying in the library. Of course, she was more intelligent than the average Gryffindor, which didn't help matters. It also didn't help that she was bossy and presumptuous. The witch never could take a lick of constructive criticism, not when it challenged her ego!

Severus understood the value of ego, but he had earned that right. He had paid his dues. This insufferable twit wanted everything handed to her on a silver platter. She was in for a rude awakening when she graduated. Compared to some supremacists, like the Lestrange and Carrow families, he was the living embodiment of tolerance! Few would stomach her whining. If she wanted to survive, Miss Granger would need to accept that life simply wasn't fair.

"We have nothing to discuss. The mark stands. If you feel that you've been unjustly rewarded, I suggest that you file a grievance with the Headmaster's Office. Not that it will do you much good."

Hermione folded her arms and glowered at the wizard. He was still mocking her by telling her that she could go to the Headmaster. Not once had he ever overturned one of his teacher's decisions. There was also the added tone behind his suggestion as if to imply that Albus Dumbledore had no power over him; that he was above reproach. Yes, she knew that Severus Snape was once a soldier in Lord Voldemort's Army and that he was still connected to the High Chancellor, but that was no reason to think that he do anything he wanted! Rumor had it, that Voldemort was planning to infiltrate Parliament. It wasn't enough that he dominated the Wizarding World. He wanted to shape and eventually, dominate the Muggle World too. In all probability, he didn't give a rat's arse about Professor Snape.

There was a moment of tension between the two. Snape looked on contently, unmoved by the Gryffindor's disapproval, while Hermione tried to scowl him into an early grave. The stewing stopped when suddenly, a thought occurred.

"What's that smell?" she said unexpectedly.

Snape's brows furrowed confusingly. _What?_ his eyes asked.

"When I came in, I smelled something … something that didn't smell _normal_ for an office," Hermione carefully explained.

The fragrance had been lingering in her nose since she walked in. No, she hadn't guessed the exact origin of the scent, but she had deduced the meaning, given Nettles state of mind and dress. Ignorance was bliss, but knowledge was power.

"The smell ... what is it?"

The Professor looked on impassively. He should've been outraged, but he wasn't – just the opposite. He found her juvenile stab at intimidation splendidly naïve and amusing. A brilliant darkness, radiating both malevolence and conceit, emerged in his eyes without a trace of shame. So she wanted to best him, did she? Tut, tut, poor little Miss Granger. She was out of her league. He had nothing to hide. It was her housemate's reputation on the line, not his.

Swiveling in his chair uncaringly, he replied, "P_uss_y," with an opulent glint.

To hear that word _'that way_' from his lips was deafening.

Hermione's icy glare quickly melted into an embarrassing mist, followed by a burst of coral in her cheeks. She was certain that if the lamps burned out she would glow in the dark! Her attempt to startle the wizard into reason had failed horribly. He wasn't afraid. If anything, he was proud! Swallowing, the Gryffindor cleared her throat and took an unconscious a step backwards.

"Like you said, Professor ... we have nothing to discuss. I'll um … ahem, leave you to your work," she retracted, nervously turning from his desk towards the exit. The short distance between there and escape seemed to grow exponentially.

_'Oh my god!' _she shockingly mouthed.

Smiling evilly, Snape watched Granger make a hasty retreat. Once gone, he rewarded himself with a rich laugh that stalked the witch down the corridor. Reeling from the realization that he had probably shattered her dewy schoolgirl ideas, Severus cradled his head and enjoyed the moment. It was a refreshing change from the usual murkiness.

Silly, silly girl.

* * *

With his feet planted firmly on the floor, Snape pumped the naked witch flung across his bed with indifference. He was deaf to her shrieks, but completely aware of her exquisite silkiness now mingled with blood. Her long, silvery hair fanned out like a peacock's tail while her large breasts jerked back and forth like two heavy water balloons. She was a curvy, mildly overweight thing, but extremely desirable. He liked a weighty frame. It contrasted his skeletal form so nicely.

Snape gritted his teeth as he tried to work his thickness deeper into her tight hub. Her newly deflowered pussy was gripping his erection like a baby calf clinging to his mother's tit. Thank the gods he had gotten her off first. He needed all the lubrication he could get.

Severus hadn't asked for Amber's virginity. He didn't particularly want it, but the girl had taken him by surprise when she paid him a 2:00 am visit that Friday, three days after their midday interlude. Livid from being awaken at such an ungodly hour, the wizard was ready to march the presumptuous little chit up to McGonagall's chambers, but changed his mind after she rushed to explain why she was there. She had decided to accept his mock-offer to fuck him, stating that she was eager to become a woman and didn't want some fumbling young boy having a go with no guarantee that she'd come out satisfied or respected. Young wizards talked. They always talked.

Amber didn't know it, but she was speaking the Slytherin's language. He understood how young boys could be and didn't blame her not wanting that. Of course, his willingness was conditional. It hinged on the understanding that this was a tryst, a hole for his pleasure, nothing more. He would do his best to meet her needs (whatever they were), but she wasn't his priority beyond that point.

"_Are you sure, Miss Nettles?"he hesitated, making one last attempt at chivalry for the sake of record. "Wouldn't you rather save your innocence for someone you …"_

_"Love?" she sharply finished, pretending to sound disgusted. "No sir, I'm ready now and I want you to do it. You have a way with women."_

Snape observed the seventh year skeptically at first, but quickly caved in light of the opportunity. After all, he had shagged so few virgins in his youth and only one in the past few years, a lonely witch named Gertrude Decker. She was the spinster-cousin of Sybil Trelawney and a complete tart. The stuffy, somewhat attractive woman was a frightening freak once she got going. If he had any sexual regrets in his life, it was _Trudy._ The very thought of her melodramatic voice made him quiver.

"_Inside," he ordered, standing aside so the scantily clad girl could pass._

Amber's met the Professor's cock with achy ambiguity. The sting of his fullness was more intense than she had expected, but she was determined to take it. Wiping her salty cheeks, the Gryffindor slowly downgraded her white-hot shriek to a hoarse moan that still outmatched the wizard's throaty pants by decimals.

*Panting*

Smiling a little, Amber tenderly observed the damp, naked man pummeling her cunt at a respectable speed. His head was tilted back and his eyes were closed, but she could see that he was enraptured. It showed in his bouncy apple and trembling lips, now slack from awe. His shoulder length, dirty hair; wet from sweat, hardly moved at all, but the corded muscles along his upper body seemed to twitch with ever beat.

"Professor …" she breathed, running her hands along his bed copiously. She must've have been very special for him to allow her this far. She had expected him to take her on the floor or in his study, but not his bed.

True, Severus Snape rarely allowed young witches into his quarters much less his bed, but the circumstances and late hour called for an exception. He would regret it in the morning, but for now, he was enjoying the milking effect her sleeve was having him. It didn't even occur that he was going to have to change the sheets afterwards.

_'Shit'_ she heard him say.

Cooing in response, Amber studied the sparse amount of black hair on the Professor's ribbed chest, which ran in a thin, dark line over his sunken stomach down to his busy crotch where it spread into a messy patch. She couldn't see much else, but she didn't need too. She could feel his bulbous helmet jabbing her cervix while his dangling bits applauded.

*Heavy Grunting*

Amber quietly wondered how many witches had seen him this way. Yes, there were rumors of dallies in the owlery, stable, and countless niches, but in all those tales, not once had he been naked. Everyone just assumed he shagged through his trouser flap.

Lavender Brown helped to confirm this two years ago when she accidentally stumbled onto Snape with Phillip Winston, a seventh year Hufflepuff, deep below the Quidditch tower. It was during a match and she had gone down to sneak a smoke. She later told everyone that she saw the Potions Master draped over Phillip's back murmuring something unintelligible in to air. The young wizard jerked and groaned in unison. The Professor's robe cloaked everything from the neck down, but she spotted Winston's britches pooled around his ankles and the outline of Snape's buttocks flexing. He was giving the reluctant senior a sound buggering.

Few besides Amber believed Lavender's story. She was always seeing and hearing things because she was always stoned.

Severus praised the moment when Amber finally relaxed. He had reluctantly taken it easy on her, opting for the duty-style deflowering method typically reserved for romantic wannabes and arranged marriages. However, he wasn't married and she wasn't his beloved. Soon, the wizard began tearing into the witch, slicing in and out of her orifice like a hardened criminal.

Stunned, Amber screwed her eyes shut and let out a battered wail.

"Oh, god ..." she cried.

The dark wizard grinned like a jackal. The harsh thrusts, coupled with the Gryffindor's pleas, fueled his ego and stirred his bouncing nuggets.

Seconds later, Snape slammed forward and let out a terrible howl, unconsciously sputtering meaningless syllables in rhythm with his squirts. The witch followed him with a painful cry, savoring the feel of his release as it soothed her torn sleeve. It was an odd feeling and not at all as she imagined it. On one hand, it felt as if he was using the loo inside of her and on the other, it was soothing - rich and warm, like holiday pudding.

Spinning a little, Snape opened his eyes and looked down. It took a few seconds for him to adjust to the giddiness from the general lack of oxygen, but he gradually began to take notice of the sated young woman below him. Licking his lips, he callously moved from between her thighs and let his stained tool drop from her corrupted opening.

"Up," he panted, motioning for the witch to get off his bed.

Amber frowned. Could he not see that she was tired?

"May I have a glass of water?" she primly asked, dragging herself to her feet.

The 100-year old chauvinist in Severus congratulated himself on the traces of blood that spotted his fabric – fifty points to Slytherin for banging a Gryffindor virgin!

"Here," he said squarely, handing her the glass that he kept beside the bed. "Drink it and get dressed. It's late and Slytherin has a match tomorrow."

Amber drank slowly, watching the wizard watching her impatiently. It didn't even bother her that she was nude in front of him because he was naked too, although the only thing left to see was his bony back and narrow legs. And well … his limp manhood streaked in crimson. Thinking to herself, she quietly wondered if all men hung down that way. His seemed to favor the left.

Snape followed the witch's eyes. He wasn't ashamed of his physique, at least not in the company of a woman he had just thoroughly shagged, but he found her roaming curiosity a bit distasteful, not to mention time consuming.

"That's enough," he said, snatching the half-drunken glass from her hand.

The sudden jerk caused her to spill her sip.

"Hey!" she complained.

"Get dressed," he snarled, snatching his nightshirt off the pillow. "And be quick about it!"

Amber grabbed her gown and knickers off the floor and strutted into his lavatory. Snape was tempted to stop her, but under the circumstances he was willing to accept that she needed a little privacy. Besides, he had to change the sheets.

Amber freshened up and slipped back into her clothes. She hadn't worn much so it took very little time. Once dressed, she browsed the bathroom and inspected everything from his toiletries to his medicine chest. There was a bottle of pepper-up potion and some headache draughts on tap, but nothing interesting. The lavatory itself was rather dull. There were no fancy towels, colognes, or soaps lying around, just the standard hygiene products.

Amber seated herself on the edge of the tub and ran her fingers along its porcelain lining attentively. This was where he bathed. This begged the question, what did he do in the bath? Did he read? Did he sleep? Did he fantasize about anyone and if so, who? He certainly didn't put a lot of time into washing his hair. The witch giggled when it crossed her mind that she might become the source of his bath time fantasies. Now that she had given him her virginity, why not?

*Hard Knock*

Amber flinched.

"I'll be right out!" she yelped.

"What's taking so blasted long?"

Sighing, the witch slowly stood and sauntered to the door. He could be so demanding! She needed to help him work on his people skills. It also wouldn't kill him to invest in a few luxuries. His lavatory was screaming for a savior. Amber gently opened the door and looked up. Snape was standing in the cast-off light with his shoulders hung uneasily. Like most men, he was unsure of what to say now that the deed was done.

"Are you finished?" he scowled.

"Yes, sir," she said, cozily slipping passed him with a sweet smile.

The wizard resisted the urge shudder. She was awkwardly close and uncomfortably giddy.

"It's all yours. I'll show myself out."

* * *

**A/C:** Please share your thoughts :)


	4. Delusions Dismantled

Distracted, Hermione marked her spot, snapped her book closed, and gathered up her things. She figured if she couldn't concentrate, she might as well be somewhere else and walked out of the library. Besides, she needed some air and maybe a little company for a change, even if it was superficial. She could finish her reading assignment in the courtyard. Although it was Saturday, the busiest day for doing nothing, there was a Quidditch match that afternoon between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. There was likely to be a small crowd.

Although it had been days, the Gryffindor was still upset over her meeting with Professor Dumbledore. She had ferried a lengthy, well-polished grievance to the Headmaster's Office and been given the brush off! She hadn't requested a review of Professor Snape's grading practices, as he suggested, no – this report was far more damning!

After the Potions Master said what he said about … well, what he said, she thought that the Headmaster should know. Her disbelief spiraled when he calmly told her that he would 'look' into the matter and that if there was anything going on, he'd find out. Hermione was appalled. She didn't understand his hesitation. She already told him everything he needed to know, including her theories about Daisy Davenport!

"_Professor Dumbledore, sir … aren't you going to take action?"_

Albus knew this day would come. He knew that Severus would go too far and say too much. He intended to scold the wizard severely for his carelessness, but there wasn't much else he could do. The girls were of consenting age. That wasn't all. Although Granger's suspicions were logical, believable, and most likely true, all of her evidence was circumstantial. He could never dismiss a teacher, any teacher, on claim alone. The fact that it was Snape and not someone else, only added a degree of difficulty.

Hogwarts's bi-laws forbade teacher-student fraternization, but the High Chancellor would never allow his noble informant to face public prosecution. It might reflect poorly on his office. After all, Snape was a retired Death Eater. He'd simply recall the wizard and replace him with someone else, perhaps someone worse – someone uncontrollable. Equally, if he hung a lantern on the scandal, the governors might think he wasn't in control of the school and have him removed. He cared about the students. He didn't want some Ministry tyrant filling his shoes!

The report Granger had so carefully prepared was a political nightmare. He'd have to destroy it, but not before showing it to that tool of a Potions Master!

"_Sir?" said Hermione, breaking the old wizard's train of thought._

Albus observed Miss Granger thoughtfully. Perhaps, it was time for her to grow up. The war had changed many things and she was about to enter a world where everything had a price. As a muggleborn, her challenges would be even greater. Severus Snape might have been a dirty, irredeemable bastard, but he paled next to his brethren.

"_I will need to investigate the matter further. Until then, I suggest you press on as you've always done. Don't let the Professor's cruel sense of humor put you off your studies," he said cheerfully, ushering her out of his office with a reassuring smile._

Speechless, the young Gryffindor gawked at the closed door. She felt impotent and ignored. In retrospect, maybe she shouldn't have expected Dumbledore to sound the trumpets, but she didn't expect him to be so dismissive.

Hermione found the courtyard peopled with the usual cliques, excluding those that had attended the game. She quickly found a private seat on the fountain and hunkered down. Opening her book, she flipped through its pages and delved back into her studies, trying like heck to forget about the Headmaster, Snape, Nettles and the whole, bloody lot.

The courtyard was a popular hangout between classes and on the weekends, but Hermione rarely ventured out there. She didn't really feel welcome. It was a place for chitchat, gossip, and barbs; however, she wasn't in the mood to be 'that' girl today. She just wanted to be around something normal. A few of her housemates, Potter, Weasley, and Finnigan were hard at play on the opposite side. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't see her walk up, not that they would have paid much attention if they had. Granger was easy to overlook because she always shied away from everyone.

"You're lying!" said Ron, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"No, I swear! Nettles is shagging that blowhard!" Seamus smiled.

"Who told you that?" Harry asked.

"Lavender told Parvati this morning and Parvati told me," He answered. "That's not even the best part. He popped her cherry!"

Both Ron and Harry responded with a screwball snort. Considering the source, they weren't sure if they believed him, but the idea wasn't out of the old git's ballpark. At least it was a girl this time! Most knew that Snape was a dirty scoundrel, but Amber? She seemed like such a nice person.

Hermione had honed in on the conversation from the moment she started to read. She listened intently, eager to get the scoop on something she already suspected. No, she hadn't spoken a word to anyone about what she saw. Frankly, she was a little stunned to hear that it had made its way into general gossip. Had Amber talked?

"Um, when?" said Harry.

"Last night," Finnigan told him. "Lavender was in the Common Room when she snuck in at 4:00 am! She saw some blood on her gown and she reeked of you know … _sex_."

Grinning ridiculously, Ron nudged Harry who was frowning beside him.

"Now, I regret not asking her out. If she's desperate enough to shag Snape, she'll shag anybody!"

"But why does she think it was Snape?" Potter said confusingly.

Before Seamus could answer, a loud scoff interrupted.

"You're not seriously defending him are you?" a voice asked.

Harry, Ron, and Seamus turned around to find Hermione Granger seated on the fountain behind them. They weren't ashamed of their conversation, only a little embarrassed that a girl had overheard it. Most wizards prided themselves on not seeming petty; witches gossiped, wizards talked.

"Snape – are you daft?" Harry bit back, adjusting his glasses. "He's a hopeless git! Nettles on the other hand …" he shrugged. "She seems nice and Lavender … well, she's always speculating about stuff. How is that defending him?"

Hermione shrank. Maybe she leaped too far too soon. Potter was probably just trying to help. He was definitely the voice of reason between the boys.

"Um, sorry –"she said guiltily. "It just sounded like that's where you were going with it."

Harry looked at the witch surprisingly. Granger seldom spoke to anyone. She always had her nose in a book or her hand in the air. Frankly, her housemates found her a little intimidating. She was almost too smart for Gryffindor. The hat should have placed her Ravenclaw, but being a muggleborn might've contributed to her being in Gryffindor. Ravenclaw, like Slytherin, had their share of purebloods, but they accepted half-bloods and on rare occasions, muggleborns. Not that he was prejudice. His mum was a muggleborn.

"Well, I wasn't," he finished, turning his back on the witch.

Hermione lingered for a moment, debating on whether or not she should join the conversation. In all probability, they didn't want her around, but she had to know more. She was bursting at the seams! She was sure they knew something or at least, more than she did.

"Ahem …" she gently coughed, interrupting the wizards again. Hermione gathered her books, slunk around to the other side, and sat down. "Does Professor Snape make a habit of shagging girls? Is that why you think he bonked Amber?" she asked carefully, meeting their surprised faces with a concerned glower.

"Have you been living under a rock?" Seamus blurted, earning himself a 'take it easy' glare from Ron.

"No," she bristled. "I'm just busy most of the time! I thought ... I thought you might know something."

"He doesn't just shag girls," said Ron, shushing Seamus with a look. Seamus could be a little vulgar sometimes. "He'll mount anything with an inlet."

"Anything?" gasped Hermione, sifting through the possibilities. At this point, everything was up for grabs. Her perception of things had changed dramatically over the past few days.

"What Ron means is that he buggers wizards too," said Harry, clearing up the misunderstanding in her eyes. "Um, we're pretty sure Snape's not gay, but he'll stick a bloke if he offers. It's the one area where he doesn't discriminate. He also prefers seniors – legal reasons I suspect, and he doesn't shag his own students. I guess that would be like incest. He is their Head of House, after all."

Hermione quietly agreed.

"But how …" she paused, too shy to inquire after his buggering choices. "How come he's still here? Why hasn't he been sacked!"

Seamus grinned.

"Cause he's Voldemort's bitch, that's why!" he answered, cutting Ron and Harry a look that said, _well he is_. "Everybody knows that Snape is the Chancellor's eyes and ears at this school. Dumbledore can't touch him because he isn't breaking any Ministry laws, only the school's bi-laws, which don't apply to him – not really. And well … he knows people. Those that give it up to him are usually looking for something in return, except in Amber's case. Lavender seems to think she's been crushing on Snape for awhile."

"She's bleeping deranged!" said Ron.

"Ewe," Harry chimed.

The tidbit had no effect on Hermione. She was more interested knowing the scope of Snape's little harem.

"How many … _ahem_ - I mean, does it happen a lot?" she pressed.

The wizards smiled at each other. Granger sure did ask a lot of questions.

"Nobody knows really. Those that shag him don't usually brag about it. Can you blame them?" Ron shuddered. "Snape doesn't advertise his business, but now and then, someone will see something. A couple of years ago, my brothers, Fred and George, said they saw two girls giving him a go in the stables! One of them handled his you-know-what, while the other …"

"The point_ is_ ...," Harry said tightly, interrupting his friend before he could finish. He had already heard the sick tale from his brothers. "Snape is piece of scum! My dad said he was like that even in school, only none of the girls would touch him back then! Most of us, the normal ones that is, try to stay out of his way."

"Harry – "Ron said jokingly. "Seamus and I can stay off his radar easily enough, but you've been on his hate list since you got here!"

"Thanks, Ron," Harry frowned, looking back at the witch. "Dad said that Snape doesn't like me because they didn't get along in school. To say that they still dislike each other would be an understatement."

Rubbing her frosty arms, Hermione stood and smiled. She had heard all she needed to hear. She would later bridge the Headmaster's reaction with politics, but for now, the October air was doing her more harm than good.

"Thank you for answering my questions. No one ever tells me anything. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, Potter," she said sincerely.

Harry offered his housemate a plucky smile.

"No problem," he shrugged.

"Well, I'd better be going. The game should be over soon and it's a bit chilly," she told the wizards, reaching for her satchel. "I'll see you around."

Looking a bit stumped, the trio waved their housemate goodbye. They watched her dash into the castle with her head cast down, completely oblivious to the scattered cliques going about their usual gossip.

"You know … Granger is actually kind of nice," Harry said thoughtfully.

His friends seemed to agree.

"But a mental," Ron said absently, still baffled that she had spoken to them at all.

* * *

Hermione stirred the contents of her cauldron carefully. The instructions called for three long strokes clockwise and one short stroke counterclockwise. Afterwards, she turned down the flame and set her ladle aside. It had to simmer for two minutes before adding the unicorn hairs. Like most advanced potions, Felix Felicis was extremely difficult to make, requiring precise measurements at just the right moment. This was her second attempt. She botched the previous batch in the last session. At least she only failed once. Some students were on their third attempt!

Hermione studied the room. Everyone was concentrating on their cauldrons while Professor Snape shuffled around the class observing their work. She tried not to look at the wizard, choosing instead to focus on her classmates, but she was ever mindful of his presence.

More than a week had passed since she reported him to the Headmaster and nothing had happened. She had more or less accepted that nothing was going to happen. Not that it was any skin off her back. He could screw a hippogriff for all she cared, since it was obvious that her caring served no purpose! She only had to put up with the knowledge of his exploits until she graduated. Then she would be free to make her way in the world.

Hermione watched the clock, listening for the final tick. When the two minutes was up, she nervously sprinkled the last ingredient into the brew and held her breath. Once all the hairs had settled, the grey mixture began to morph. Her eyes became wide with glee as it slowly changed into a shiny substance resembling molten gold. Within moments, small droplets began to leap above the surface like goldfish.

"I did it!" she squealed, breaking the silence in the room.

Snape, who was lingering over the shoulder of another classmate, stopped what he was doing and looked over. His eyes became hard with annoyance.

"Miss Granger!" he spat, tearing himself away from the student.

The young wizard breathed a sigh of relief.

Grinning proudly, Hermione looked up. She stopped congratulating herself when she realized that she had disrupted everyone, including the Professor. They were all staring, a few of them enviously.

"Sorry, sir …" she blushed. "But I'm finished! Look!"

Snape glided up to the cauldron and peeked inside. Surely enough, the witch had successfully completed the potion.

"Congratulations," he dully offered, glancing at his own students disappointingly. He had hoped a Slytherin might be the first to complete the assignment. "But that's no reason to bubble over like a toddler!"

Immediately, the witch's pleased expression dissolved into something more humble. Scowling, Snape took out his grade book and begrudgingly scratched an 'O' beside her name next to a string of O's, one E, and the A she had earned on the previous essay. The new mark would undoubtedly bring her average back up.

"You may dispose of the contents," he tonelessly instructed.

Hermione's eyes objected, drawing a look of surprise from the wizard.

"_Dispose _of the contents," he said more meaningfully. "We can't have students walking around with vials of Liquid Luck!"

Sighing, the Gryffindor picked up the cauldron and marched to the rear of the classroom where the sink for disposals was located. She angrily, but carefully emptied the creamy, hot substance into the tub so that it didn't splash. It was a jewel of a potion. She resented having to throw it away!

Hermione glanced over her shoulder. Snape was busy observing her from across the room. He folded his arms over his chest when he spotted the look of contempt on her face. Turning back, the witch sadly watched the last of the leaping goldfish circle the drain until there was nothing left. She would've kept a vial for herself had the Professor not been watching.

Strutting back over, she set the cauldron on the table with an audible plunk.

"All gone," she miserably announced.

Snape usually dismissed his students when they finished ahead of schedule, but not this time. He had a bone to pick with the Gryffindor. This meant that she needed to stay to the end of period.

"Once you're done cleaning up, take out your textbook and read ahead. I want to _see_ you after class," he said menacingly.

Hermione felt her heart plummet. She had a feeling she knew why.

"Yes, sir …" she said weakly, reaching for her scouring pad.

Amber Nettles glared from her cauldron suspiciously. Granger hadn't spoken out of turn and she had just finished with an Outstanding – so why did he want to see her in private?

"Sir," she voiced.

Snape stopped and turned around. He wasn't particularly pleased to discover Amber with her hand raised.

"Yes, Miss Nettles," he said insipidly, ignorant of the stolen glances here and there.

"I was hoping to speak with you after class about doing some extra credit," she sweetly lied.

Snape's brows collapsed … _extra credit? _He didn't give extra credit.

Had the Professor been paying closer attention, he might have spotted the curious amusement on the student's faces, but he rarely noticed such things when he wasn't looking for it. Rumors about their torrid love affair had spread quickly. Nearly everyone, except the Professor, was aware that he and Amber were deeply involved. Of course, it didn't help that she was constantly dropping hints about his attraction to her and their cozy understanding. She hadn't admitted to bonking him, but she did nothing to stop people from thinking it was true. It made her feel special, even respected in a twisted sort of way. Professor Snape – the brood, the git, the greasy hooknose Head of Slytherin and Voldemort's trusted adviser was her secret lover.

"Do you mind if I stay too?"

"Yes," he coldly spat. "I don't give extra credit! You know that."

The Professor resumed his tour, leaving the seventh year to stew in her own juices. Her classmates were giving her the eye now. She did her best to play his response off as _classic_ Snape-banter and smiled.

"He can be so touchy," she quietly told her table mates. "I should've known better than to ask him in front of everybody."


	5. An Unforeseen Development

"Don't forget your textbooks on Monday. You'll need them," said Snape. "Dismissed."

Those set to go gathered their supplies and made a b-line towards the door. They didn't run, but they did hurry. There was a thirty-minute break between morning classes and some of them were itching to get the word out. Snape shot Nettles down! They must've had a row. It wasn't true of course, but that's how they saw it.

Amber observed Hermione with a knotty frown as she gathered her books. This was the second time she had earned herself a private audience with the wizard. She was more than a little curious to know why. It wasn't like the Professor to ask students stay behind, unless they were Slytherins or in trouble.

Hermione watched her classmates exit in droves, then pairs, then one by one, leaving her to deal with the dark man festering a few feet away. He towered over the room like a statue - a scary, unreadable statue. He showed little emotion beyond annoyance over Amber's snail-like departure. She was taking her sweet time walking to the door. Once there, she lingered and glanced back with a peculiar expression. Hermione met her curious study with a scowl of her own.

"Close the _door_," said Snape.

Frowning a bit, Amber did as she was told. He waited until he heard it click before warding the classroom with a Muffliato charm. The door was already charmed to lock.

_Nosy chit,_ he thought, rolling his shoulders irritably.

Crossing his arms, the Potions Master carefully turned to the Gryffindor. She was practically crawling in her seat, anxious to know why he had asked her to stay, but she knew. He knew she knew and purposely kept her on edge.

"Sir …" she nervously began.

"Silence," he said evenly, continuing his study.

Thanks to the oversensitive tattletale, he had received a highly unpleasant summons from the Headmaster. Although her efforts to have him sacked proved futile, he did not intend to let it go unchallenged. A talk was in order.

* * *

_The Previous Night …_

"Professor, you should know that this office received a formal grievance last week concerning your conduct. I've been meaning to speak with you about it, but I've chewing over how best to handle the situation. The person in question is laboring under the idea that you are currently having sexual relations with Amber Nettles. Can you tell me why anyone would think that?"

Snape stiffened. He should have known something was amiss, given the hour and the old wizard's leery gaze when he arrived. Over the years, he never showed him anything more than civil contempt, but as a rule, he was annoyingly cheery about it; however, tonight he was different. Tonight, the usual gleam was gone. He actual looked as if he wanted to crucio him!

"Who reported me?" he asked in a raised, slightly testy voice.

"A p_uss_y cat," said Dumbledore with a ghost of twinkle.

Exhaling, Severus looked off into the distance.

_Granger … _he sourly deduced. Not that he didn't already suspect it.

"Answer me, Professor!"

"Come now, Headmaster … let's not pretend. We both know that I'm no saint," he shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. "You've known for years!"

"Yes. I know," Dumbledore said in a scornful tone, leaning forward. "But until _now_, you had the decency to keep your shameless cock OUT of my face!"

Pure shock drew Snape's eyes back to the angry wizard.

"Goddamn you, Severus!" he scolded, causing the Professor to wince despite himself. "How could you be so reckless? Once filed, formal grievances become a matter of public record! Do have any idea what kind of trouble a report like this could cause?"

"For me OR you, Headmaster? Lest you forget, I am a …"

"Death Eater?" Dumbledore finished with a spiteful chuckle. "Now who's pretending? You're no more a Death Eater than I am! Not anymore! As I recall, your right to murder, rape, and pillage was rescinded years ago! Noble informant is what you're called these days, isn't it?"

Snape bristled indignantly. He had murdered, ransacked, even tortured when ordered too, but he had never raped anyone; not that the urge wasn't there, but he preferred to play out his _sadistic_ fantasies with consenting partners, even if his roughness walked a fine line.

"Yes, you're connected and yes, the High Chancellor would have my head if you reported that I was planning an attack on his office, but that aside, do you really think he cares anything about you? That he would protect you? Are you foolish enough to believe that you're irreplaceable!"

Snape's nostrils flared. The suggestion that he might be replaceable hit him like a sack of bricks. He refused to admit what he already suspected deep down, that he was a puppet, a worthless pawn and that his long service meant nothing. He had meant _nothing_ as a child and _nothing_ in his youth. He took the dark mark so he would mean something. He was still a valued member of Riddle's circle, retired or not.

Clenching his fists, Snape leaned over the Headmaster's desk. "I have not broken ANY Ministry laws! The Dark Lord would _never_ see me thrown in Azkaban over some meaningless piece of trim!" he blackly hissed.

"Or bum as I've been told," said Albus, earning himself another widened glance. "But can you be sure?"

Severus snapped back with a sneer. The truth was, he didn't know but did it really matter?

"Why haven't you reported me?" he asked, changing the subject. "Had you reported me, we would know the answer to that by now."

"My reasons have nothing to do with love or loyalty! I assure you!"

Dumbledore continued to scrape the randy Professor over the decency coals, but his explanation on exactly why he hadn't reported him and why the report had to be destroyed, gave the Potions Master a reason to relax. It was as he suspected. Dumbledore was a bloated, self-serving Gryffindor masquerading as an Arthurian legend. He would do nothing to upset his position. If there was one constant in the universe, it was that Albus Dumbledore loved Hogwarts.

"Discretion and respect ...," the Headmaster said, peering over his glasses meaningfully. " ... is all I have ever asked."

* * *

Snape eased across the room, his robe trailing behind him with each step. He glimpsed the fear in Granger's eyes when he took a seat on the stool next to her.

"I _know_," he said gently, breaking the silence. "I know all about your little _chat_ with the Headmaster."

The Gryffindor tried to appear noble and unafraid.

"Yes, sir ..." she said, jerking her chin. "I felt your conduct warranted his attention."

Severus already knew the answer, but the question needed to be asked.

"Is that so? What part of my conduct concerned you? Was it the _pussy_ remark?"

Hermione broke with an absurd scoff. "Yes," she bristled, looking around the classroom uncomfortably.

"Come now, Granger. We're both adults. Surely, you've heard the word _pussy_ before."

"Civilized adults don't use that word! And it wasn't the word, sir ... it was the meaning. It's what happened before I walked in!"

Severus delighted in the witch's discomfort. Good. He didn't plan to make this easy for her. After all, Dumbledore hadn't made it easy for him.

"May I remind you that it was you that inquired after the smell? I answered honestly, that's all. Is my fault that you didn't recognize the scent of _pussy_? Then again, maybe you did ..." he thoughtfully added.

Blushing, the witch ballooned.

"Professor, stop using that word!" she snapped, unaware that she was squirming. "It's unprofessional and … and wrong! You're a teacher! And NO, I didn't!"

Snape's lids became heavy with intrigue when he caught the telltale wiggle. He knew arousal when he saw it. Was the goodie-two-shoes getting wet? Hermione wasn't as turned on as the Professor believed, but she wasn't exactly turned off either. The use of that 'word' in that 'way' from a teacher, a man she had say 'sir' too was still shocking.

"My apologies, Miss Granger – if it helps, the Headmaster agrees with you. My vulgarity was unprofessional, but you miscalculated. You see, my position at Hogwarts is secure so long as the girls I _fuck_ are willing and of age. I was under the impression that everyone knew that, but apparently I was wrong. Forgive me ... I was unaware of your singular_ purity_," he said silkily.

The jibe did its job. It gave Hermione the will she needed to look him in the face. Did he just say fuck? The word added another degree of naughtiness to their discussion. It certainly made her feel like this was a no holds barred conversation, one that probably wouldn't result in a loss of points or detention.

"I'm not that innocent," she lamely defended, doing her best to sound convincing. "I was just caught off guard, but what you said about me ... not knowing, that is - well, that's partly true. At the time, I had no clue that you shagged your students! It's disgraceful!"

"But not illegal," the wizard reasoned. "You said, _at the time_? What have you learned since then?"

Hermione shrank a little. She knew a lot more, but she wasn't willing to divulge her sources and she didn't want him to know that she'd been asking around.

"Only that you sleep with seventh years …" she said, sputtering away from his gaze.

The Potions Master sighed. Since the cat was out of the bag and her tiny ideas forever shattered, she might as well know the whole truth. The wizard assumed an informal pose, positioning his right elbow on the worktable and stretching his left leg out.

"Yes, it's true," he openly admitted. "But all of my partners are legal and willing. Do I need to explain why Dumbledore and the other teachers have elected to ignore my lifestyle or have you worked that much out for yourself."

"Because you report to the High Chancellor …"

"Exactly," said Snape, rewarding the chit with a small smirk. She may have gotten the upper hand by tattling, but he planned to have the last laugh. "Since it's obvious that you have _questions_, ask away. I vow that this discussion will never leave this room. I only wish to clear the air."

There was a long pause, but after a moment, tiny stars appeared in the witch's eyes. Was Professor Snape actually giving her the key to his life? Admittedly, she was curious.

"Yes …" she said, a bit hesitantly. "Do you … um … shag girls on a regular basis?"

"As often as I can," he said honestly. "But I'm limited to those willing. I've gone months without a deep cunt or a wet mouth to sink my cock into."

His candor drew a dark blush from the witch. He knew he was the right path because the witch's pelvis rolled again. Apparently, she liked it when he talked dirty, despite the small frown she was giving him.

"Boys too?" she added, unable to resist asking.

A smug smile tugged at the corners of Snape's mouth. In the absence of pussy, he'd fuck just about anything.

"I've mounted a few, but I _give_ it. I don't take it!"

The Gryffindor cleared her throat and looked away. The image of Snape ravaging some nameless young wizard popped into her mind. She could practically hear their gonads smacking. Right about then, Snape glanced down and spotted Granger squeezing her thighs together. She was getting hot.

"Do they …" she hesitated, not looking at the wizard.

"Like it?" he softly chuckled. "Yes, I suppose. Of course, I've had my share of wizards that didn't realize what they were getting into until I was snaking up their ..."

"I'm sorry ... this is too weird!" the witch interrupted, cursing the heat in her core. "I ... I have to go!"

"SIT!" Snape growled.

Like a frightened puppy, the witch obeyed.

"Ask your questions," he said dangerously. "Go on - get it out of your system!"

A moment passed.

Hermione wanted to know more, a lot more, but what kind of person was she for asking? Obviously, this was her punishment for turning him in. Twisted as it was, he probably wanted to humiliate her with the truth. Well, she wasn't going to let him! If he wasn't ashamed of the answers, why should she be ashamed of the questions?

"Are you gay?" she swallowed.

"No," the wizard sneered. "Orientation has nothing to do with it! It's strictly physical."

"Then why do you do it? Why do you shag students? Aren't there places that offer those kinds of services?"

"Firstly, I don't shag. Pimply teens shag. Couples shag. Pathetic losers hoping to nail their frigid wives, shag. I fuck, bugger, and screw. Secondly, because I'm a man with needs who can't leave his post in search of a twat whenever he wants it. I take it where I can find it. Remember, I'm stuck here just like you. Finally, I do it because they ask. Usually, it's a trade of some kind, a favor-for-a-fuck. And don't bore me with your naive sympathies! The ones that let me use them almost always get something out of it!"

Hermione considered the wizard's answer. It made sense. He wasn't free to come and go as he pleased and if they were screwing him for gain, they probably deserved what they got and he probably got what he deserved.

Squirming a little, "How does it _feel_?" she asked, toying with the edge of her Potions manual. "... when you take a bloke, I mean."

Snape found Granger's depraved fascination enticing. Everyone had a vice, something they were secretly drawn too, especially the righteous ones. It was plain to see that her weakness was carnal knowledge, the dark kind – the sort he knew all about. He was going to enjoy corrupting her mind.

Licking his lips, the Potions Master slowly leaned forward and captured the Gryffindor's ear with a delicate whisper.

"It feels like a parched _pussy. _Once inside, it draws me deeper, massaging me ... the more inexperienced the hole – the greater the contraction. I prefer to take them standing up, while they _cling _to their knees," he said with a feral growl, his eyes glinting darkly. "I like to watch their stretched rings slide over my length as they agonize over the heavy sack beating their shriveled bits... but sadly, _not everyone_ can take it that deep … and yes, Miss Granger ... I like to go deep ..."

A powerful tickle shot through Hermione, forcing her lids to slam shut.

"What else …" she whispered back.

The Professor leaned closer.

"Most wizards are so tight that I have to _squeeze_ my cock inside inch-by-inch ... flexing and twisting ... whatever it takes. Once I'm in, I start to thrust ... slowly at first, then faster and faster, until they're bouncing off my thighs! Most grunt, some squeal, but they all howl! I love to hear them beg ..."

Swallowing hard, the witch bit her lip. She tried to imagine a bad boy, wannabe whimpering for the Potions Master to take it out. She could almost see his greasy, long hair and willowy frame beating the wizard's backside mercilessly!

_so hot ..._ she thought.

"Once, I pulled out and _squirted _into the wizard's mouth before making him swallow it. Afterwards, I sent him back to his adoring girlfriend. There are a number of straight wizards out there willing to do whatever it takes to get ahead, but some of them do it because they're curious ..."

Dazed, the Gryffindor leaned into the velvety voice.

"And the girls …" she murmured. "Do they let you ... ahem, bugger them?"

"On rare occasions," purred the wizard, his breath shrouding her ear. "I tend to reserve that sort of thing for the cheeky ones ..."

Hermione arched her brow curiously.

"Sometimes I use a toy, something I've transfigured," he whispered, pausing over the description. "… then I make them choose which hole they want in!"

The witch rewarded the dirty voice with a sharp, jagged breath.

Snape absently brushed the Gryffindor's rosy cheek. Her eyes remained closed, deeply hypnotized by the primal images his stories inspired. Smiling, he gently swept her parted lips and paused. As he lingered, she kissed his touch, signifying that some part of her brain was still active and that part wanted him.

"Do you pleasure yourself when you're alone, Hermione?" he asked with added vigor, keeping his voice low.

"Yes …" she murmured.

"So do I," he breathed, tracing her neck and chest downward.

Rocking gently, the witch licked her lips. She was positively spellbound. Chuckling a little, Severus traced her delicate lobe with the tip of his large nose.

"Would you like to hear more?" he murmured, running his finger over her knee.

Hermione groveled with an incoherent mumble before regaining her speech.

"Tell me ... tell me about Daisy," she said dreamily. "Tell me … how you … you …"

"How I _fucked_ her?" he hissed.

"_Yes_…"

Snape's sultry smirk morphed into a triumphant smile. She was putty in his hands. Tracing her knee lightly, he continued.

"She was one of the few women that I've buggered. Nothing less would do," he cruelly admitted, earning himself an 'ooh' gasp from the witch. "I made her hoot like an owl while I fucked her _tight_ arse. She didn't it too ... most eagerly, in fact. Of course, that was between sobs. I found it particularly amusing that she had trouble sitting afterwards. She was quiet the tramp you know, having made it with a married man and his influential friends at several parties. Tell me, Hermione ... do you like that? Do you like the thought of some snooty pureblood taking it up the derriere? Be honest ..."

_"Yes..."_ the witch said, surprising the man taunting her ear.

Without realizing it, Hermione spread her thighs, unconsciously beckoning the foul-mouthed Professor in. The wizard became unbearably hard when he spotted the invitation. She didn't know it, but her innocent willingness was driving him mad.

"So she wasn't a _virgin_?" Hermione rasped, drawing a chuckle from her admirer.

"She was no virgin," said Snape, snaking his hand up the Gryffindor's skirt. "But it's doubtful that she'd ever experienced a cock like mine. I took NO pity on her! I simply _fucked_ her like a cheap whore ..."

Hermione felt the wizard's hand inching towards her knickers, but did nothing to stop him. Instead, she opened her thighs further, giving him plenty of room to work. She wanted him to touch her. She needed him to satisfy the horribly pang that was building. Severus was hungry and ready to oblige, but he could tell that her willingness hung a razor sharp edge. He had to go slow.

"Tell me more …" she breathed, enjoying the feel of his wandering hand. "I want to know more …"

Swallowing nervously, the wizard watched his forearm disappear.

"Every so often, an insolent little prat will need a favor or a get-out-of-detention free card. I usually make them blow me in payment, but only _afte_r they've serviced _everything_ else," he growled, scraping the witch's ear with his teeth. "Do you understand what I mean by _everything_?"

_Dirty bastard …_ she cooed, vividly picturing the Professor having his knob catered too.

"No," she innocently replied.

Severus closed his eyes and groaned when his finger grazed Hermione's silky knickers. He took a moment to relish the feel of her panty-clad slit before greedily worming his long digits passed its barrier into her gushy folds. He nearly choked when he heard the syrupy sound her wet cunt made.

"I make them tongue every nook," he rasped, circling her nub with his thumb. "Wrinkly raisin and all ..."

"Yes!" the witch softly shrieked. "Keep going ... don't stop please!" not registering the deed behind his words.

Grimacing from the pain of his own arousal, Snape rushed to unfasten his flap with his free hand. He was sure he could coax the witch into a hand job, possibly more. He desperately wanted to feel her small, delicate fingers around him - roughly jacking him off, but he'd gladly take her mouth if she so daringly offered.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

The couple's eyes sprang open. The dreamy fog took a few seconds to lift, but as it did, Hermione looked down in time to see the Professor withdraw his hand from her widely parted thighs. His pasty fingers were glistening!

"Oh, god …" she breathed, sealing her undignified gap.

She could still feel his touch on her nub and the slippery mess between her folds. Swooning, she helplessly glanced over. Her eyes bulged when she saw a definable outline in his trousers. It was thick and throbbing angrily.

_No … _she thought, too mortified to think clearly.

Snape had gone from enthralled to enraged. Who the fuck was hammering on his door! He was so preoccupied with the knock that he failed to notice the Gryffindor's plight. Had he taken the time, he might have seen the sobering humiliation building in her eyes.

"I'll see to it – DON'T move!" he seethed, ripping from the stool.

Snape was up and across the room in a few short steps. His outer robe conveniently concealed his hard on, making it possible for him to wrench open the door without a second thought. He stalked outside and searched the corridor in both directions. His scowl deepened when he spotted a robe flutter around the corner in the distance.

"I have to go!" said Hermione, barreling passed the stunned wizard.

Blinking, the confused Professor turned back.

"Wait," he tried, reaching for her shoulder.

"No ... stay away!" she blubbered, startling the already astonished wizard.

Snape gawked helplessly at the disenchanted witch shrinking down the corridor. The incredible would-be climax had ended very badly. His balls already felt blue from the shock of it and he didn't have time to soothe the terrible ache before his next class arrived. If he ever discovered the student behind the untimely prank, he would surely crucio them!

_Little bastards!_

* * *

**A/C:** I re-posted this story after receiving numerous requests to continue. Apparently, there were a lot of people who enjoyed it, but weren't comfortable sharing their thoughts on it. Personally, I love a little smut with my morning coffee! It's all in good fun :):)


	6. Crosshairs

Snape didn't see Granger again until that Saturday when she reluctantly wandered into the Great Hall for lunch. No one, not even McGonagall questioned the young witch's absence. Everyone assumed she had locked herself away in the library, but he knew better. He also knew she couldn't avoid him forever. He wasn't ashamed of what happened, just the opposite, but it was obvious that she was – a result of her misguided sensibilities no doubt. Hermione Granger had ignited his imagination, placing her into an elite category. Few could stomach his tastes much less match them. Frankly, the development was a complete shock. No person, much less a student, had ever intrigued him so; not that he found the mechanics particularly intriguing, just her reaction. Had things not unfolded the way they did, he would've never known about the deviant she kept pinned up.

Amused, Snape quietly pondered whether she had realized that they were more alike than different. Had she come to terms with her warped cravings? He would certainly help her explore those longings, but it was to his advantage if she asked. She had to want it.

For the first time in a long time, Severus Snape felt challenged, but unlike the farce known as Lily, there were no suitors around to pooch the deal; at least, none with his insight, connections, and history. He had a string of dirty deeds going back to his days as an angry, young Death Eater. Tales guaranteed to make the filthy-minded muggleborn (irony at its best) wet. No, he wasn't suffering from puppy love. There were no frivolous, ridiculous feelings to get in the way this time. He was in lust. She would be a formidable and pleasant distraction from his daily routine.

Under a hooded glare, Severus observed the peaked witch take a halfhearted seat at the furthest reach of the table, presumably to stay off his radar. Little did she realize that she was in his crosshairs! He would not pursue her openly, but his mind churned with ideas on how to lure her back into his company.

* * *

Amber looked up and saw the Professor leering heavily down the Gryffindor table. She shot him a sweet smile, which he did not return or even notice. The wizard's indifference did nothing to discharge the smitten young woman. As far as she was concerned, he'd made his affections plain after their unplanned rendezvous the day before. If there was any doubt, there could be none now.

Sighing deeply, a burning need surfaced on Amber's face.

The tiny moan caught the ear of a housemate who happened to be looking in her direction. Richard Rooney, a sixth year, snickered under his breath. It seemed Nettles was fawning over the High Table again.

"Psst, get a load of Nettles," Rooney said to his neighbor. "She's practically drooling over there! What do you suppose is wrong with her?"

"Haven't you heard?" the boy whispered back. "Professor Snape is nailing the witch! The whole bloody school knows about it."

"Well, I didn't!"

"C-mon, really? Dean Thomas said that he saw them yesterday. He spotted Snape sneaking out of the second-level broom closet and a little while later, she came bopping out. According to Dean, she looked like she'd been put through the ringer!"

"Must've shagged her senseless," the wizard deduced, still grinning. "But I always thought Snape was ... um, you know - queer?"

His friend shrugged.

"Apparently, he likes beaver too," the boy replied. "Personally, I don't care. You won't catch me bending over for the ugly git. I don't care who he knows!"

* * *

_24-hours earlier …_

*Shrieking*

"Stop your blasted howling!" Snape growled, brutally pumping the small hub engulfing his cock.

Bobbing like cork, Amber did her best to shush her cries, but the Professor was ransacking her canoe like an escaped convict. He must've have been so desperate to have her again that his primitive urges had taken over. Gods, he was such a man!

"Y-yyes, SIR!" she winced, mouthing the words 'I love you' and 'oh, Severus' to herself.

Only minutes earlier, Snape had encountered the witch in the corridor. Still hungry from his dally with Miss Granger, Severus needed something, anything to sink himself into. When Amber flashed him a smile that suggested something more than a simple hello, he slowly circled around and inquired after the extra credit assignment she had so boldly requested the morning before. Although he didn't fancy the Gryffindor, she would do. He had barely formed the question before she eagerly accepted his offer, following him into a cramped, musty closet.

Once inside, Snape pinned the young woman against the wall and rushed his hand up her skirt. With an icy smirk, he greedily kneaded her delicate mound while she fumbled to unfasten his trouser flap. The wizard quickly removed his wand and placed a privacy charm around the room. That end of the corridor was unoccupied most days, but prudence was preferable to surprise.

"Hurry up!" He told her, still fondling her crotch.

Grinning nervously, Amber managed to free his erection and looked up. The lust in his features had robbed him of his stoic composure. He looked almost pained. Obviously, his desire was too great to ignore any longer. He needed it. He needed her.

"Don't just stand there gawking," the Professor hissed, pawing her knickers hungrily. "Take them off!"

Amber hurried to comply and gingerly tossed her panties aside. She let an 'ooh' gasp slip when her lover crouched down and snaked his arms between her legs, propelling her upward. Using the wall for support, he lifted the witch up – then back down, impaling the young woman in the same breath. He repeated the motion until the shrieking witch rested firmly on his base.

"Such a tight … little bucket…" Severus intoned, courting her suspended frame as he pumped.

Minutes later, the Professor planted his hips and let out an ugly yelp before collapsing into Amber's neck with a shudder. The memory of his encounter with Granger and the feel of her engorged clit between his fingers washed over him as he rode the orgasmic ripple to its conclusion. After he had spurted the last drop into the giddy _thing_ pinned to the wall, Severus let out a throaty groan of relief. It had been a productive five minutes.

Placing her cheek on his head, Amber gently rubbed the Professor's shoulders. Her lover couldn't show it - he wasn't the type, but the snarky wizard was definitely falling for her. Resting there, she breathed him in, committing his scent to memory. He smelled like parchment, firewood, and shockingly enough, soap! She sniffed a little harder trying to identify the scent … honey, perhaps? The elves made a wonderful honey-milk soap that wasn't overly fragrant.

Snape suddenly sensed something was very off and became rigid.

_What is she doing?_

The Professor cleared his throat and carefully dislodged his shrinking tool. Grimacing a little, he gently lowered the Gryffindor onto the floor and turned away to secure his goods in private. He didn't mean to give the witch the wrong impression by lingering. Truthfully, he rarely stuck the same hole twice. Of course, treating his partners as little more than pincushions didn't help. Still, had another option been available, he would have taken it. He already indulged himself with Nettles twice in his office and once in his quarters. He didn't want her thinking this was a regular thing or that she was in any way special!

Once presentable, the Professor swept around and took an inventory of the disheveled witch resting against the wall. She hadn't bothered to dress or wipe the thin trail of wetness from her cheeks. She was just leaning there with a sated look in her eyes. A little bizarre considering he hadn't made her come.

"I appreciate your assistance," he said coolly, glancing to and from the tousled girl gazing up at him with a strange, dazed smile. "As agreed, you will receive an 'O' this week for … _participation_."

"Anytime, Professor … anytime," she breathed.

Snorting aloud, the sated wizard dismissed the offer and stalked out of the room. His afternoon class was waiting. Once outside, he murmured a locking charm and billowed away, putting some much needed distance between them. Though he didn't think much of the witch or her privacy, he would at least try to adhere to the Headmaster's desire for discretion.

Sighing merrily, the Gryffindor rolled over and slipped her hand between her thighs. He had been so good, so viciously thorough. How lucky was she to have him? Yes, some thought he was a hideous, unscrupulous git, but she knew the truth. She knew the man under the robe. As time marched on, he would come to depend on her. She could see them together … taking long walks by the lake, laughing over wine, and even cuddling by the fire. She would be his lover and his confident. She only had to be patient and let it unfold. No one could please him the way she could. She had given him her innocence and by extension, her devotion. They were destined to be together.

"Severus …" she gasped, lunging two fingers deep into her well.

Amber savored the feel of his gooey affection, while nosily mimicking his harsh strokes as best she could. She tried to imagine that he was ravaging her again. She needed to feel him. She needed to come with him deep inside her, but her stretched, saturated cavity rendered the two-finger plunge obsolete.

* * *

Hermione mulled over her plate. She wasn't particularly hungry, but she needed to eat something. She had to keep her strength up if she was ever going to face the hooked-nose, Slytherin fiend on Monday. The witch took an 'oh crap' breath and cradled her head. The simple act of conjuring the Professor's name caused her to well up again. She had lost count of how many times she'd cried since that morning. She was positively mortified!

_"I like to watch their stretched rings slide over my length as they agonize over the heavy sack beating their shriveled bits... but sadly, not everyone can take it that deep … and yes, Miss Granger ... I like to go deep ..."_

How could she have fallen for his tricks? How could she have allowed that greasy toad to make her act that way? To touch her _there_? Everything he said was so dirty – so debauched. He was a wicked, nasty piece of work!

"And what about you, Granger?" a voice said a short distance away.

Blanching, Hermione swallowed and looked up. The remarkably appropriate question stirred her back to the table conversation.

"What?" she said, searching for the disembodied voice.

"Are you going to Hagrid's Halloween Gala?" asked Lavender, suddenly noticing the witch's eyes looked a little glassy. "Um, is something wrong?"

"No, of course not …" Hermione said tensely. "I'm just tired."

Lavender accepted the answer at face value, figuring whatever it was it couldn't be very important. If anything, the brainy girl was probably stressing over schoolwork. Had she been the type, Lavender might have offered her a puff in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom – something to lift her spirits, but she knew better than to ask. Hermione Granger never did anything remotely wrong!

"So are you going?" she asked again.

"I ... I don't know. It's too soon to say really," Hermione halfway lied.

She never attended social functions, preferring a good book or a good night's sleep to partying or hanging out. Not only that, but she didn't fancy going alone. It was likely that Brown was just being nosy. She seriously doubted that she was asking her to join her and her friends for a night of spooky laughs.

Each year, the school hosted a Halloween Banquet, where all the students enjoyed an assortment of candy, cakes, and other treats. Afterwards, the under years (years 1-6) returned to their dormitories and the seventh years, those wishing to attend, met in the pumpkin patch behind Hagrid's hut for a special campfire celebration. Students would exchange haunting tales, personal stories, and drink spiked butterbeer all night long. Those that talked about it said it was the place to be on Halloween!

"Don't be silly! It's a week away," Lavender laughed, nudging her pal Parvati. "Everyone is going to be there! You should come."

"I'll think about it," Hermione said shyly, delving back into her plate.

Moments later, the witch glanced over. She frowned disapprovingly when she spotted Amber Nettles on the other end of the table. She was engrossed in what seemed to be a very interesting tidbit with Nancy Pratt. She also kept looking towards the High Table at someone. Her eyes helplessly followed the logical course until they fell upon Professor Snape. Her only shock, if any, was Amber's interest. Hadn't he shagged her already?

With a snippy grunt, Hermione allowed herself a sound look. The wizard was in usual form, not a button or scowl out of character. He appeared to be silently taking in the teacher's conversation, but occasionally, he'd stop eating and offer commentary whenever Professor Quirrell asked him a question. She noted that the Dark Arts teacher was the only one that showed much interest in Snape. She was sure it had everything to do with his connections and not his beaming personality. Snape was void of personality! He was a loathsome, spiteful man with a foul sense of humor that relished in humiliating his students (aka victims). Yes. That was it. She was a victim.

It was a well-known fact that Severus Snape was a Legilimens. Over the years, he had threatened countless students with reading their thoughts if they didn't tell him the truth, claiming that he would divulge their deepest secrets as retribution. Granger tried to convince herself that Snape had somehow used his training to corrupt her mind. It was the only logical explanation!

Potter and Weasley had Professor Snape pegged. He was a despicable, Slytherin cockroach that would stoop to any level to get what he wanted! She only hoped, for the sake of her Gryffindor pride, that she'd be around to see it backfire on him.

"Bastard ..." she mumbled.

* * *

**A/C: **New chapters on the way.


	7. Amortentia and Luxor

Hermione agonized over Snape's class for the remainder of the weekend. She decided the best approach was no approach. The Gryffindor wasn't in the habit of ignoring problems, but it seemed to be her only option. She couldn't go to the Headmaster or Professor McGonagall, not after her behavior and certainly not have after Dumbledore's reaction last time! More than that, she couldn't bear their disappointment. Although she suspected that Snape had manipulated her magically, she wasn't convinced. If she wasn't convinced, how could she ever convince her Head of House or the Headmaster?

Monday came quickly. After a less than hearty breakfast and several mid-corridor turns, Hermione arrived a minute or two before the start of class and took her usual seat. Nearly everyone was there when she entered, including Nettles whose eyes followed the witch to her table.

It wasn't like Granger to ride the clock. She also looked a bit tired. Not that Amber cared, but she had been paying very close attention to her housemate ever since her private meeting with the Potions Master. Yes, she lingered outside that day, listening as best she could, but a strange buzz kept her from being able to hear anything! Fearing they had been alone long enough, she banged on the door and ran away. Since that afternoon, Granger had been acting noticeably different. This didn't sit well with the witch, but knowing him as she did, she wasn't going to let some brain tease encroach on her territory and ruin their romance. Let her find her own wizard!

Hermione hurried to set up her cauldron and took out her textbook. As she was preparing, she glanced towards the Professor. He seemed engrossed in marking and barely looked up, except to offer an irritated scowl to one of the tables nearby. A small pang of relief crept into Hermione's chest. She wasn't sure what she expected, but his lack of interest helped.

"Class, open your books and turn to chapter seven," he softly announced, setting his quill down.

As the class took out their textbooks and flipped ahead, the Potions Master stood and moved to the head of the room. Towering like a gargoyle, he folded his arms and waited for his students to look up.

"Those of you that _failed_ to complete your assignment last week will be expected to schedule a time between now and winter break to use the lab," he blandly informed. "My schedule is on the board. As you can see, the lab is available Friday afternoons. I prefer that you come in then, but if you must come in after hours or on the weekend, you need to check with me first!"

The students knew better than to hoot or clap, but many of them wanted too. They assumed the Professor's willingness to extend the deadline had to do with the fact that his House was behind everyone else, including Gryffindor; a difficult feat considering Snape openly favored Slytherins.

"Over the next two weeks, we will be reviewing _Amortentia _and an obscure, Egyptian elixir known as Luxor. The directions may be found in your textbooks," said Snape. The black look on his face quickly silenced any potential applause. This was his least favorite potion, but it was required learning. "Amortentia is the most powerful _love _potion on record. As I'm sure you are aware, its shortcoming, if any, is that it only inspires the illusion of love, not _actual _love. No form of magic can do that so _don't_ ask."

Sneering, the wizard lectured for several minutes on the history of the infamous potion. He even touched on several disastrous misuses and their consequences, which seemed to have no impact on the optimistic faces gazing up at him. For them, love was a prize; something to be admired – not the wrenched disappointment he knew it to be. Love was years of waiting, sleepless nights, and worry-lines. Love was pain, depression, and betrayal. Love was not a basket of every flavor of beans! The idea that a potion existed that conjured or enhanced the rouse was nauseating.

"While Amortentia inspires romantic love, Luxor inspires self-love …"

"Self-love?" blurted one student.

A faint giggle sprung from the rear of the classroom. Everyone knew better than to interrupt the Professor during a lecture.

With a sardonic wobble, Snape glanced over.

"Did you have an _actual _question, Miss Porterfield?" he asked, mocking the Hufflepuff with a scathing look.

Embarrassed, the girl shook her head.

"Um, no – sir … it just popped out. Sorry," she replied.

The wizard continued.

"Luxor provides the drinker Pharaoh-like confidence. It also produces a mild pheromone that lures onlookers into the illusion. Although ethically more useful than Amortentia, particularly for those who suffer from stage fright, it is _highly _addictive and if brewed improperly, will result in severe anxiety. You should know that there are no known antidotes for either potion. Once drunk, Amortentia and Luxor must run their course. Signs of affliction include …"

Amber hung on the Professor's every word, not moving or batting an eyelash except to shoot her tablemates a be-quiet scowl whenever they snickered.

Granger observed the spellbound witch from across the room. It was plain to see that she was fascinated. In fact, most of the girls seemed captivated, but Nettles was doing more than just listening. She was emphatically engrossed! Her entire body was focused on Snape, which begged the question, did he notice? If he did, he was doing a fine job of hiding it. He simply droned on.

Although Amber was a tad overweight and a bit needy in demeanor, she was genuinely pretty. She had sparkly grey eyes, pale hair, and a curvy frame that offset the gaunt Potions Master nicely, but was he attracted to her? It was safe to assume he was; after all, they were shagging, but how much? Amber was too unconventional for the boys her own age, but that would undoubtedly change once she graduated. Still, she couldn't see what Amber saw in Snape. Had he played the same cruel game with her?

"_And yes, Miss Granger … I like to go deep,"_ she suddenly recalled.

Swallowing, Hermione blinked back her embarrassment and sat up.

"Today, you will be working from your textbooks. I want to you read chapters seven and eight. Afterwards, you may begin on your writing assignment, identifying ways to recognize the affliction and addiction. Papers are due on Monday, two weeks from today, following a tight lab schedule. Wednesday, we will move into the lab portion of this assignment. Due to the level of skill needed to complete a successful potion, I am granting you more time to finish the brew of your choosing - two weeks."

A wave of smiles and nods washed over the class. They didn't have to brew both!

"However," Snape said curtly, interrupting their facial applause. "The _written_ segment will detail BOTH potions. Note that I expect nothing less than five rolls!"

Amused, the wizard took a quick second to enjoy the stretched groans across the room.

"Once you have completed the first lab assignment, you will need to devise an antidote. Everyone will work in pairs for the second installment. Teams will have until the paper due date and any free time between to work on the special assignment; however, you will only have one class period to _execute_ it!"

"But sir, you said there was no remedy," Dean Thomas voiced from the corner of the classroom.

Hermione felt blissfully undetected until her housemate drew the Professor's attention to their table.

Glancing from his profile, Snape's stony façade morphed into something more amusing.

"I said there was no _known_ antidote, didn't I? Needless to say, I _do not_ expect you to succeed, but should you prove me wrong…" he paused, turning his eyes upward in ridicule. "Your team will earn 100 points and a special note of acknowledgment from me."

The students gasped excitedly. Even Hermione, who until that point, felt strangely out of place beamed brightly – _a potion competition?_

"Anymore questions?" he asked.

Amber's hand shot up, drawing a look of annoyance from the wizard.

"Yes, Miss Nettles?"

"Will all of this be on the mid-term exam, sir?"

Snape offered the witch a dull look.

"Yes. Of course, it will – except for the antidote, but you needn't concern yourself with that! We have more to cover before then. I've allotted the first part of December for mid-term review with exams starting on the 14th."

Amber exhaled a breath and rolled her shoulders appreciatively. Exams were still a long way off, but if she wanted to attract a good employer when she graduated, she needed to do well.

"If there are no more _relevant_ questions," said the Potions Master, pausing meaningfully. "You may begin."

* * *

"Granger," Dean whispered.

Hermione stopped reading and looked up.

"Do you have anyone you want to partner with?" he asked.

"No, not yet."

"Listen, I was thinking ... maybe we could team up? I have some ideas would could try."

Hermione glanced back to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Really, like what?" she asked.

Dean smiled. "Well, I'm not going to tell you unless you agree!" he said playfully.

Hermione didn't have to think about it. Thomas was a good wizard. He'd make an excellent partner. He was among the most excited when Snape announced the reward. Obviously, he wanted to win. Since he was a half-blood, she understood why, but an academic acknowledgement from Snape could do wonders for her too!

"Sure, that sounds like fun," she said, careful to keep her voice down.

There were prying eyes and ears everywhere, even at their own table. The competition was well underway!

"Sit with me at lunch and we can go over it," he said. "I really think we have a shot!"

Smiling brightly, Hermione nodded. She rather liked the idea of having someone to sit with at lunch to discuss class work. Most of the time, she ate with whoever happened to be there or snacked in the library. Having a study partner would be a refreshing change from her usual routine. It also might help to distract her from the bigger problem plaguing her mind – _Professor Snape_. Her little encounter was wreaking havoc on her ability concentrate!

Granger wasn't the only person in the room finding it difficult to concentrate. Amber repeatedly flipped between her studies and the Professor seated at his desk. Although he pretended not to notice her noticing him, all the attention was wearing on his nerves. Yes, Snape was aware of her pining glares during lectures, at meals, and between classes. It was a fact he tried desperately to ignore. He was growing tired of having to pretend he didn't care and planned to nip whatever "it" was in the bud very soon. Not only was it awkward, but she was beginning to make a spectacle of herself!

"Drooling over our Head of House again, aye Nettles?" Goyle teased.

Amber turned around and glared at the Slytherin table.

"Don't be stupid," she said, trying to sound offended.

"Oh, come off it, Nettles. Everybody knows you're polishing that knob," another boy chimed. "Not that we blame you! Slytherins make better shags, but why bed an old fart when you have a young stud? If you want, I'm available later."

Snorting, the Gryffindor made a show of rolling her eyes.

"Let's pretend that you're right, do you honestly think I'd settle for third string when I can have first?" she asked, stunning her friends.

Her housemates, Parvati and Jones, looked astonished. It was well-known that Snape enjoyed certain privileges, but no one had ever admitted to enjoying it! In fact, the word on the grapevine was that he was brutal and domineering, a total git in the sack. Of course, this only added to the belief that Snape and Nettles were romantically involved. From the way she hinted, it just didn't seem like an over the desktop fling.

Severus looked up when he heard whispering emanating from one side of the classroom. He was disappointed to find his Slytherins and Nettles hard at play. Parvati and Jones appeared neutral, but they weren't working. To make matters worse, Amber was heading the charge, luring his students into conversation. No, he couldn't hear the banter, but he could see that it was inappropriate.

"Miss Nettles," Snape said over the room. "Care to share whatever it is you're discussing over there?"

Blushing, Nettles slowly turned around.

"Um …" she began.

Amber wasn't comfortable being the center of attention when that attention was negative.

"Ahem ... we were just talking about the assignment, Professor."

Snape wasn't fooled, but stripping points from her meant having to strip points from Goyle and the others.

"This assignment doesn't require speaking! Save it until later," he told her, glancing over his students with a boorish scowl. "I also need to see you in my office this afternoon. You may stop by after 4:00 or whenever your classes are over."

Amber gave the Professor a wide nod. Not only had Severus _not_ taken points, but he wanted to see her alone. She was happy to oblige. She was even happier that his crude Slytherins overheard it!

"Man, I'd love to be a fly on that wall," Dean murmured, nudging his new partner.

* * *

"Sit," said Snape, motioning to the rickety chair in front of his desk.

Smiling, Amber took a prim seat.

"You asked to see me?" she said, opening the discussion.

Snape leaned back into his chair and studied Nettles over an exaggerated pause. She was in good form, hair combed, perfume, and a fresh coat of lip-gloss. Obviously, she had prepared for their little meeting, but it wasn't "that" kind of meeting. He had to get it across to her that there was nothing between them. Yes, they had fucked, but it meant nothing! He thought she understood that, but he was beginning to sense that she didn't.

"Miss Nettles, I called you here because you seemed to have taken an unnatural interest in me lately; everything from my dining habits, to where I go, and every bloody thing I say! Would you care to explain what's going on?"

Amber batted her eyes confusingly.

"I'm not sure I understand …" she quietly replied. "Have I done or said something to upset you?"

Severus snorted. So that's how she wanted to play it?

"Nettles, I wasn't born yesterday! Granted, I'm not the sort that inspires certain feelings, but I've been around young people long enough to recognize it! I just never thought it would apply to me," he said gruffly, pausing afterwards.

It really was a disturbing thought.

"Professor, I am well aware of your position and I understand where you're coming from," she explained, thinking that he could never openly admit to his longings without attracting public scorn. "I may be a little too girly sometimes, but I'm no threat! You have nothing to worry about …"

Snape glared at the Gryffindor suspiciously. Had she not been unbuttoning her blouse, it might have occurred to him use Legilimens, but he found her ultra sheer bra and dark nipples a bit distracting. Wherever did she buy something like that?

"I don't like it. I want it to stop … the ogling, the smiling, the cute little waves – everything! No more spectacles! Do you understand me?" he snarled.

Amber moseyed around the desk and sank to her knees. Severus tried to look annoyed, but the Slytherin in him was intrigued. The better part him; the part that thought things through, was shutting down. Severus wasn't your typical wizard. He wasn't uncontrollably randy, but he was a wizard with options that came and went. Despite whatever orifices he had used or was willing to use, regular encounters weren't a guarantee.

"I understand, sir," she said with a strange, dubious look.

Snorting once, Snape looked on impassively as the girl gently unfastened his trousers. Deep down, he knew he ought to toss the presumptuous chit out of his office, but the man in him couldn't resist. It wasn't everyday that a partner showed this much interest without a bargain being struck first. Grinning, Amber slipped her hand inside and freed his semi-hard member. It looked unsure, much like the wizard a few feet up.

"Do you want me to suck it?" she said playfully, licking the tip.

Snape groaned despite himself.

Smiling, the witch opened her mouth and dove into his lap, swallowing most of his cock on the first gulp. Most of his upper body, including his head jerked in tandem as she blew him frantically.

"Fuck," he hissed, barely able to contain a genuine smile.

The wizard's eyes danced when she reached into his shorts and massaged his sack.

"You learn quickly," he chuckled.

Amber let out a victorious sigh.

Snape allowed the young witch continue for several minutes before latching onto her hair and tearing her from his crotch. She was breathless, blotchy, and covered in spit. She looked as nasty as she felt, but it wasn't nasty enough. The Professor rose from his chair, unfastened his trousers, and turned around. Assuming a wide A-stance, he gripped his spit-covered erection and began pumping. Amber's eyes danced when she saw the impact it had on his dangling bits.

"How much do you want to please me?" he asked, panting a little.

"Sir, I would do anything for you," said the starry-eyed witch. "Anything ..."

Had the Slytherin not been so focused on achieving his goal, her needy response would have signaled to him.

"Then stick out your tongue," he told her in a wicked voice. "... and get to work."

Snape glared at the door with a smug smirk. There was a hint of resistance, but it didn't last long. Before he could insist, Amber clutched his thighs and slid into her role. This sent the wizard's eyelids into a fluttering frenzy.

"10 points ... to Gryffindor," he choked.

* * *

**A/C:** Snape is a piece of work in this fic, but that's how I seem him w/out the guilty restraints of Lily's death. Don't worry, I'm going somewhere with this :)


	8. Do Unto Others

Hermione and Dean met again after classes to discuss their strategy. True to his word, Thomas was bursting with ideas. The one he was the most enthusiastic about was combining several known potions rather than starting one from scratch.

"If that was possible, someone would've tried it already," Hermione said thoughtfully, not wanting to offend her new study partner.

"Maybe ... but the potions I have in mind aren't in the textbook. The reason Amortentia seems antidote-proof is because it contains the same ingredients as other, Latin elixirs! I think that makes it immune," he told her. "We need to work from non-Latin pallets."

"Why didn't I think of that?" she said excitedly. "Brilliant!"

The wizard beamed.

"That's not all," he added. "I think Professor Snape offered us a clue when he gave us a choice! Luxor is Egyptian in origin. They don't share the same pallet."

Hermione frowned.

"Wait! You actually think Snape was trying to _help_ us?"

"No, not us," Dean corrected. "I'm sure he did it to give his Slytherins a fighting a chance. They're really behind this semester and Luxor is much easier to brew."

Suddenly, a thought occurred, drawing Hermione's attention to her bag.

"They're behind because they're spoiled! Professor Snape, the Ministry, society … everyone coddles them!" she scolded, glancing through her sack.

"They're also the future," said Dean. "Purebloods run everything. So until something changes, that's just the way it is …"

Hermione wanted to disagree, but she couldn't. She was just lucky to be there. Hogwarts was the only place that welcomed her kind. After the war, Voldemort forwent purging wizarding society of its less desirables, but only because the Ministry needed low-level workers. He also wanted expendable bodies for his army. If he ever hoped to expand his rule, he would need all the magical talent he could find. Voldemort eventually approved the decree that granted muggleborns permission to learn magic, but they had to register as demi-wizards. This officially made them second-class citizens, a spit-pan for aristocrats! Hermione had no delusions about pureblood dominance. It was a fact of life.

The witch frowned.

_Where is it?_

Rummaging through her bag, she said, "Maybe we should focus Luxor instead. It might give us the time we need to practice."

Dean shook his head.

"That's for blokes who need a passing grade and don't care about the competition! Amortentia is more challenging. Snape knows this so my guess is, in order to win; we'll need to tackle that one."

As the duo entered the lobby, Hermione stopped and looked up.

"Bloody hell! I forgot my notebook!" she spat.

"When did you have it last?" Dean asked.

"Potions," she answered, appearing a bit frustrated with herself.

"That's okay. We'll work from mine tonight."

Hermione ran her hand through her hair. How could she have been so careless?

"I have more than just class notes in there," she said.

"Don't fret," Dean told her. "Professor Snape teaches first years on Monday afternoons and they always use the junior lab. I'm sure it's still on the worktable. He doesn't lock up until supper so you have plenty of time."

Hermione shrugged. She didn't want to see the Professor, but she needed her book.

"Listen, I've got to run. I'm meeting Seamus. We're supposed to be helping Hagrid get ready for the big Halloween party this weekend. Would you like to come?"

"Um ... thanks, but I need to run to Potions and stop by the library."

"No problem. We'll be in the pumpkin patch if you change your mind! See you tonight," said Dean.

Smiling, the wizard waved his partner bye and made a b-line towards the courtyard. He wasn't the least bit put off by her sudden change in mood. He had two older sisters. He understood how girls could be sometimes; especially, when it concerned their privacy!

Sighing, Hermione turned towards the dungeons.

"Crap!"

* * *

Hermione reluctantly made her way downstairs. As she neared the Potions Office, her stride slowed to a skulk. It was almost 4:30 and Snape's door was open, indicating that he was available. The Gryffindor's mind flashed back to that morning. Evidently, Amber was running late.

On the count of three, Hermione shot pass the arch. She caught a glimpse of the Professor at his desk as she darted by, but he didn't look up. Relieved, she continued to the potion's lab and retrieved her notebook. It was where she had left it and the page was still marked. Thankfully, it didn't look as if anyone had tampered with it. She had a habit of scribbling all sorts of random thoughts and ideas, not just lessons.

Hermione stashed the book in her bag and drifted out of the classroom. She stopped cold when she turned the corner and spotted Nettles enter Snape's Office down the hall. From what she could see, Amber looked a little too made-up for a teacher-student meeting.

The witch scoffed.

_Does she have to be so obvious?_

Hermione waited for the door close. As it did, it took the warm glow of firelight with it. All that remained were some dim torches that burned green. Presumably, Snape charmed them that way so he could keep the dungeons looking as grim and creepy as they felt. Despite her disapproval, the witch stopped at the end of the corridor. She hadn't meant too. She intended to leave, but curiosity drew her to the arch's orange outline. What were they doing in there? Were they having sex? Was Amber enjoying it? How did Snape treat her? These questions and more flooded her mind. Swallowing, Hermione leaned against the frame and listened. She was surprised to find that Snape had forgotten to put up his privacy charms! Not that it made a huge difference. The thick, wooden door made it difficult to hear anything.

*Murmurs*

"_Have I said or done something to upset you, sir …"_ she heard Nettles say.

_"Nettles, I wasn't born yesterday!" _his voice snapped_._

Hermione's eyes widened. She tried to hear more, but the Professor's pitch changed.

"Is he trying to end it?" she intoned.

_"Professor, I am well aware of your position and I understand where you're coming from,"_ Amber explained._ "... but I'm no threat! You have nothing to worry about …"_

_"I don't like it. I want it to stop … the ogling, the smiling, the cute little waves – everything! No more spectacles! Do you understand me?"_

Gasping, Hermione pulled back from the door. Maybe the wizard had an ounce of moral fiber after all! No sooner had the thought formed before it was gone. The fact that he had his hand up her skirt less than a week ago quickly discredited the idea. It was more likely that he had grown tired of the witch. Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew or maybe, just maybe, his little chat with Dumbledore sparked a change. Whatever the reason, it was news.

Biting her lip, Little-Miss-Curious repressed her ear against the door. She practically leaped when a manly groan escaped the lining. Grinning, she searched the corridor for strays. It was dim, dank, and empty. Not surprising, considering everyone was probably in the courtyard, library, or kicked back in the Great Hall.

"Walk away …" she told herself. "You're better than this!"

Another groan pierced the silence, beckoning the witch closer. She strained to hear what was being said/done, but most of it equated to muffled breathing and the occasional yelp_._

_A surely git by day ... a master playboy by night,_ she thought, admiring the hidden passion and vulnerability in his voice. The very idea seemed wrong, even blasphemous, yet here she was listening to him moan!

*Silence*

What was Nettles doing to him? The Gryffindor delighted in trying to imagine. She had to admit, being bad felt good, though she'd never admit it to anyone. Was she sucking him dry? Shagging him senseless? Maybe the git was buggering her like he did Daisy Davenport!

_"... do you like the thought of some snooty, pureblood witch taking it up the derriere?"_ she recalled.

Hermione swooned. She was getting turned on in the worst way, though she didn't fully understand why. These weren't normal thoughts. Respectable women didn't think this way. Good girls didn't get buttered up over buggerings and blowjobs!

Suddenly, a sobering thought occurred, robbing the witch of her amusement and guilt. Thinking back, she couldn't recall Nettle's response to Snape's objection. Had she reacted badly? Was he hurt? The Professor was a notorious git and notorious gits made great victims! Fearing the worse, Hermione gently turned the knob and pushed. She had to know if the Professor was alright, to make sure he wasn't pleading - not for the sake of his well-being, but for the sake of Gryffindor!

Squinting from the orange glow, it took Hermione a few seconds to hone in on the scene. The Professor was standing up with his back at a strange angle, glaring down at the witch on her knees. She was half-dressed, panting, and a complete mess. Obviously, he was fine, but Amber looked a fright.

Hermione wanted to close the door, but her hand wouldn't cooperate. Her face, eyes, even her breathing, seemed to rise and fall with the scene. The Professor may have been an ugly, hook-nosed git, but she couldn't deny that he possessed that 'thing' that made students obey. Maybe it was his dark confidence or authoritarian nature, but the wicked way he used his voice was so inviting.

Swallowing, Hermione screwed her eyes shut.

_This is wrong_ … she thought, unsure whether or not she cared. She wanted to watch. She wanted to learn. She wanted to see.

When Hermione looked again, a pair of black orbs met her from across the room. Shock, shame, and intrigue turned the red-faced Gryffindor into an unblinking statue! Smiling smugly, the Professor widened his stance, leaned over his desk, and began fisting his slippery tool. He appeared to be waiting for something.

"How much do you want to please me?" he asked.

"Sir, I would do anything for you ... anything ..."

"Then stick out your tongue and get to work."

Hesitating briefly, Amber clutched the wizard's thighs and buried her face between his cheeks. Hermione spotted the uncontrollable flutter in Snape's lids and mimicked his reaction. The nasty sound Amber's tongue made was delicious. Snape was a dirty bastard!

"10 points ... to Gryffindor," he choked.

The sound of groans, beating flesh, and Amber's ministrations filled the room. Hermione's opinion of the wizard hadn't changed, but nearly everything about her pious self-view had. In the short time between opening the door and opening her eyes, she learned what it felt like to crave "it". She always assumed she was above that sort of thing, but the reality was, she hadn't found the right person. Snape may have been a cruel git, but they shared something in common.

Feeling a bit foggy and unbalanced, Hermione's focus slowly traveled up and met the eyes of the man being serviced. His smugness was indescribable. He took no shame or offense to her voyeurism.

"I have to go," she mouthed.

What came next surprised and thrilled the witch.

"S-t-a-y," he mouthed back.

Hermione's eyes became slack with need, but she couldn't stay and tore herself from the scene.

*Click*

The wizard's smirk morphed into a grin. He wanted Granger to witness the finale, but her silly sensibilities had taken hold. Still, there was real heat in her eyes. He was sure of it! She wasn't some little tart bucking for a favor; she wanted it for wanton's sake. Few witches could have stood there and watched him the way she did if they didn't have a screw loose somewhere. Incidentally, sexual depravity was an attractive trait in his books.

_There's no turning back, Miss Granger ..._

A moment or two later, Snape felt the telltale squeeze and stood up.

"Stop," he rasped, surprising his partner.

Turning around, he snarled, "Open up!"

Amber did as she was told, allowing him to jab his thick device inside. Severus began to thrust immediately. His roughness drew a gag and no small amount of protest, but he never noticed. He was lost inside his own need. The wizard soon clenched and spewed his gooey release down her gulping, wide-eyed receptacle.

* * *

Smiling to herself, Amber carefully combed her hair. Thankfully, she remembered to stash a compact, some mints, and a tube of lipgloss in her bag so that when they finished, she could freshen up.

Snape studied the witch from his chair. All manner of arousal was gone. Nothing but contempt and regret lurked in his eyes as he watched the young woman pull herself together. It was a bit strange to see. He never hung around afterwards so he never saw what witches did when the deed was done. He really didn't want to think about the males, but in all likelihood, it involved some kind of healing ointment.

Clearing his throat, the Professor spoke.

"Miss Nettles …" he began, pausing to smooth his robes a third time. "I was quite taken by your enthusiasm, but things went too far. What happened just now, should not have happened. Do you understand?"

Smiling, Amber stopped primping and glanced over. She continued to beam, blissfully unaware of the wizard's true meaning. She assumed he was referring to the dirty deed he asked her to perform. Admittedly, she didn't like it much, but as his girlfriend; it was her job to keep him satisfied. Besides, wizards always expected more in the beginning. He'd grow bored with such things as time marched on.

"It's alright – you don't have to apologize. I was happy to do it," she smiled, returning to her compact.

Snape observed the witch with a baffled look until he realized her meaning. His face quickly lost its shape and a hint of guilt formed in his eyes. Typically, he reserved _that_ kind of act for the insolent pricks and pretty liars that crossed his path. Nettles didn't qualify, not really.

_"Sir, I would do anything for you," _he recalled her saying._ "Anything ..."_

A pang of shame crept into the wizard face. Why didn't he stop there? He knew he had to end things with young woman. He knew that when she arrived.

"I wasn't referring to _that_," he said, a touch of regret in his voice. "I was referring to it all, to everything. I think you have a certain idea about us - a _romantic_ idea. Do I really need to explain how ridiculous that is?"

Amber put away her comb and makeup. She seemed confused, but only because she didn't fully understand what he was trying to tell her. When his scowl didn't change, she began to sense something was wrong. Smiling weakly, she sank into the guest chair and shrugged. What was he saying?

"There is NO us!" the Professor blurted, reading the question through her expression. "It was strictly sex and it was a bad idea! I should've cut it off after our first exchange, but one thing led to another ... it meant nothing."

After flicking away an innocent spider that wandered into his sight, Snape looked up and studied the witch sitting across from him. Her cheery smile was gone and she wasn't saying anything. She looked almost broken, but the pieces hadn't fallen apart yet. He was sure he had driven his point home that time.

"You seem like an intelligent young woman. It's not hard to understand why we can't go," he said, adopting a less snarky tone. "It's over."

*Silence*

"Miss Nettles?"

When she didn't respond, Severus cocked his head and examined her curiously.

"Miss Nettles?"

"Why ..." she said in a strange voice. "... why did you let me go on like that? Just now, I mean. If you intended to end things, how could you ..."

The question may have been void of vinegar, but there was resentment in her cold, grey eyes. She looked as if she might bubble over any second! Snape knew a potentially explosive situation when he saw one and tried to recover with a civil nod. She made a valid point, but he didn't have a good answer. He was sure the truth wouldn't satisfy her. It never satisfied anyone. He was a man. It was as simple as that.

"I made a mistake," he answered truthfully.

Although the wizard was being straightforward, Amber saw his response as evasive and sarcastic. He had led her to believe that he cared! She would've never done all the things she had done with him had she not believed he cared!

Amber's eyes became slits.

"You _bastard_ … "she seethed, too angry to keep the shakiness out of her voice.

Stunned, the Professor sat up.

"You got your _jollies_ … and now …" she continued. She looked as if she was on the verge of hyperventilating. "… your greasy, dirty, thankless arse is tossing me out! Yes, PROFESSOR, I understand!"

Had she been anyone else, Snape would've docked her 50 points for shouting his title that way, but the young woman had a right to be angry. Moreover, she was on the edge of a watery breakdown! He wanted her calm. It wouldn't do for her to leave there upset. No, he didn't fret over what his colleagues thought of him, but he'd rather they not think anything.

"Please calm down, Miss Nettles. As I said before, I made a mistake," he reasoned, not letting onto the fact that her fury was dismantling. "It's not as if you didn't know what you were getting into. I made my intentions clear from the beginning!"

"So I'm a mistake? Is that it?" the witch scoffed, rising to her feet. Snape's eyes followed her up. "No, Professor - you were the mistake! You're a greasy, lonely, washed-up Death Eater who has to FUCK his students because no self-respecting witch will touch you!"

Snape stifled the urge to point out that she had just insulted herself! Thankfully, name-calling didn't bother him much, but the washed-up Death Eater remark burned a little.

"Nettles," he said tightly, standing to meet her gaze. "Calm down."

Amber searched the Professor's face for a trace of feeling, but all she found was resolve. How could he have allowed her to think that he cared? He made her feel special. He showed her affection. He even made love to her into his bed chamber!

Had Severus looked into the Gryffindor's mind right then, he would have seen just how delusional and unbalanced she was, but he had no desire to feel her rage. Seeing it was enough!

"Look," he said, moving around his desk to counter the witch. "I have a bottle of Calming Draught in the cabinet. Let me get it for you. It might help. After you've had a day or two to think about it, you'll be white as rain. I'm sure of it."

Snape embraced the lie with an encouraging smile, one that Amber did not believe or return. Breaking from his shadow, she scrambled for her things and sprinted towards the door.

"Will you at least take the draught?" he asked, slightly irritated. Yes, he was wrong and he knew it, but she was taking his civility for granted!

Ignoring his offer completely, Amber stormed out.

*SLAM!*

Flinching, Severus winced.

He really was a dick.


	9. Finding a Heart

Using the teacher's entrance, Severus billowed into the Great Hall and took a seat. His mind was very much on the unpleasantness with Nettles the day before so he was looking forward to the mundane chatter breakfast normally offered. After the witch stormed out of his office, he locked himself away for the remainder of the evening, choosing to indulge himself in a bit of light reading. He figured staying out of sight might do the seventh year good. He also wanted to spend some time contemplating on how he might capitalize on Granger's voyeuristic episode. She certainly was beside herself with interest, despite her denial at the end.

The teachers were prattling on about some juicy piece of news with Professor McGonagall leading the conversation. Apparently, there had been some kind of commotion before he arrived between two sixth year Ravenclaws. It seemed the girls were bickering over a wizard, which led to a food fight. A couple of House Elves were still in the aisles cleaning up the mess.

"It's disgraceful – fighting over a boy!" Minerva huffed.

Quirrell, Sprout, and Flitwick nodded in agreement.

"The Headmaster will straighten them out," said Filius, looking up from his plate amusingly. "I would have been happy to, but I think Albus wanted to sit the girls down for a little heart-to-heart."

"What happened exactly," asked Snape, surveying the mess.

The teachers shot the Professor a surprised look. He seldom engaged in gossip and almost never without being asked.

"Miss Walters and Stonemeyer had a row," answered McGonagall. "Apparently, they're competing for Mr. Calloway's hand or at least, they were. Walters began the fight. She threw a glass of pumpkin juice in Stonemeyer's face. From there, it was all out war!"

"It was a madhouse! Some of the students were applauding and hooting!" Filius added.

Severus chuckled. He was just glad his students weren't the ones fighting. He really didn't feel like scolding anyone that morning.

"Albus is upstairs with them now. He and Mr. Filch had to break it up, but even as they tried, the girls kept throwing things! Argus got nailed with a handful of hash browns," said Quirrell.

"Really?" the wizard blinked, seemingly astonished. "Please tell me that someone recommended their expulsion?"

"Posh!" snorted the Deputy Headmistress. "We don't expel students for that, Severus."

Snape rolled his eyes. Were he in charge, he most definitely would! It was unacceptable behavior, especially from older students. Frowning, Severus scanned the tables. Everyone was hard at work, buzzing about what had happened. He had a feeling this wasn't the last of it. It would undoubtedly go onto to fuel corridor gossip for the remainder of the day.

Severus stopped scanning when his eyes fell on Hermione Granger. She was engrossed in conversation with Dean Thomas and his friends. He privately noted that it was unlike Granger to be so sociable. His interest in the witch continued until she looked up and found him watching. Even from a distance, the rush of pink in her cheeks was clearly visible.

Smirking, the depraved wizard acknowledged the Gryffindor with a civil nod and returned to the teacher's conversation.

* * *

Blushing, Hermione snapped away.

"Are you okay?" asked Harry, looking to and from the High Table confusingly.

"Fine!" she said, squealing a little. "I'm just … um … a little wowed that's all. I can't believe that Walters threw food in Filch's face!"

"I'm sure it was an accident," Dean laughed.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Seamus said. "I'd love to crème that old coot! Half the school would!"

Snickering, the table joined in, taking turns telling each other all the things they'd like to see happen to the squib. Filch wasn't well liked by any house, but he was universally despised among Gryffindors!

"What happened to you last night?" Dean asked Hermione, turning away from the conversation. "I waited for you in the Common Room, but you never showed up. Parvati said you went to bed early."

Hermione nodded. She couldn't tell him the truth of course; that she was beside herself with confusion and that she was in no mood to work. After leaving Snape's Office, the witch rushed back to Gryffindor Tower and took a long shower. Although she knew she ought to be ashamed and felt strangely at odds with the fact that she wasn't, she was wildly fascinated and aroused. She couldn't resist pleasuring herself - shameful as it was. When she finally finished, she grabbed a bite to eat and headed off to the bed. It was the first time in memory that she ever went to bed without studying!

"I was really tired," she truthfully answered.

"Well, I worked out a formula. I'd like to go over it with you this afternoon, if it's okay."

"Sure – I'd love too!" she smiled.

"Hey, what's got you two so cozy all of sudden," Ron asked a few seats down.

He wasn't used to seeing Granger on their side of the table; not that he minded. He was just curious.

Dean shot the redhead a bored look. It was doubtful he'd understand. Weasley was a fine wizard, but he wasn't a fan of somethings, like studying and advanced potions. In fact, it was a small wonder that Potter was! Those two seemed joined at the hips.

"We're working on a potions project," he said simply.

"Oh," Ron sniffed, suddenly uninterested.

Glancing over, Harry asked, "Is it the Amortentia and Luxor project?"

Hermione and Dean nodded.

"Snape gave us that one too. Personally, I just want to pass. I don't give a rip about the competition!"

"Do you honestly think Snape would let you win, even if you could? Ron snorted. "He hates you!"

"Ron ..." Harry said annoyingly. "Would you stop saying that!"

"Well, it's true."

"I know, but you don't have to keep reminding me."

"Why does he hate you so much?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

The wizard shrugged.

"Well, like I told you before, he and my dad didn't get along in school. I guess he thinks that I'm a chip off the old block so he treats me like dirt. I shouldn't care and really I don't because he's such a creep, but I wish he'd get over it. My mum seems to think he's ... you know, damaged. She doesn't talk about him when I'm around, but I can tell she knows something. Even back then, Snape wasn't a favorite in school."

"Well, I have to agree with your mum," said Dean. "You have to be damaged to want to become a Death Eater!"

"Snape's not really a Death Eater, not anymore," Harry pointed out. "At least, that's my understanding."

Ron stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth and looked up.

"Once a Deaf Eafer, always a Deaf Eafer," he chewed.

Harry made a disgusted face.

"Will you please swallow?" he laughed.

Hermione snickered. It was nice having friends to talk too, even if it was about idle things. Not every conversation had to be about homework. She knew this, but she had trouble convincing everyone else that she wasn't a complete brain.

"Did anybody catch Nettles last night?" Seamus asked, changing the subject.

The group shook their heads, though Hermione seem to hesitate.

"A couple of the girls said she was really upset yesterday. When they saw her, she was running out of the dungeons! If you notice, she's not here this morning."

"The old git probably gave her the axe," Ron said.

One by one, his friends turned to him for an explanation. Did he know something that they didn't?

"Oh, c-mon! You didn't honestly buy her story about them being in-love – did you? He might've banged her a few times, but everyone knows that Snape doesn't get involved with his shags. I mean ... who'd want too?"

"You're right," said Hermione. "Now that you mention it, it did seem kind of ridiculous."

Harry put down his glass and wiped his mouth.

"Snape is good for two things – a bad day and a bad lay!"

Hermione grinned, but didn't comment. Professor Snape was many things, but being bad in the sack didn't seem like one of them.

* * *

Snape sauntered around the classroom, checking potions and marking his clipboard as he went along. Tuesdays and Thursdays were particularly gruesome because he had four, two-hour sessions. Usually, his day didn't end until well after five o'clock. The last meeting was always the most tedious.

"Professor," said Harry, looking up from his cauldron. He didn't fancy disturbing the man, but he had a question.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"I don't mean to be rude, but what's that smell?"

Bemused, Snape's face became dull.

"What are you talking about?" he snapped.

Harry had arrived late that afternoon and had to sit at one of the tables in the far corner. There was definitely a strange smell emanating from that side, but he couldn't place it. Granted, the lab was home to a lot of strange odors, but this one reeked. Thankfully, it was faint, but the longer he sat there, the worse it got.

Harry pointed towards the shelves.

"It's coming from over there! It really stinks," he said, looking at his classmates believingly.

His tablemate nodded in agreement.

Sighing, the wizard dropped his clipboard and sauntered across the room. As he neared the section, he got a whiff of something foul. His nostrils curled in disgust. Harry and the others looked on as the Professor investigated the area. He searched the jars, lower cabinets, and shelves for the source of the scent. The closer he got, the worse it became, but he still couldn't pinpoint its location.

"Did someone leave a bottle a flubberworms out?" he asked, still rummaging through the shelves.

Somewhere in the distance a boy replied, "We haven't used any!"

Grumbling to himself, Snape continued the hunt.

"Maybe one of his jar pets crapped itself before he pickled it," Seamus quietly joked, drawing a few snickers from his neighbors.

Severus ignored the laughter and moved to the top cabinet. Everything was in order or so it appeared, until he looked inside the last one. When he pulled back on the handle, a disgusting blob fell out onto the counter. The stench was horrible!

"Ewe!" a girl screeched. "What is it?"

Harry rushed to cover his mouth and nose.

"That's disgusting!" he said, followed by a wave of hisses from the other students.

Cringing, Snape studied the flesh. It appeared to an animal heart. It was dark red with feathery black spots, indicating that it wasn't fresh, that it had been decomposing for a few days. The wizard had an iron stomach, but this sickened even him!

Holding his fury to an evil scowl, the Professor turned on the classroom. He knew it was pointless to ask, but he'd ask anyway.

"Who is responsible this!" he snarled.

The class met the question with a serious of puzzled looks. Even Harry appeared bothered and confused. Hogwarts students didn't play those types of pranks, especially on a man that could slice and dice their entire school career!

"Honestly, Professor … we don't know," Potter offered, looking to and from his classmates.

Everyone quickly agreed.

"Looks like Halloween came early this year," said Seamus in a tone that suggested he was being anything but funny.

Clenching his jaw, Snape studied the room. Even in his livid state, he didn't detect any deception. No one there was responsible. Turning around, Severus examined the decomposing heart again. The sight and smell was repugnant! Halloween may have been a few days away, but magical minds didn't celebrate this way.

"Please, sir – can you just rid of it," said one of his Slytherins.

The witch was gagging as she spoke.

"Turn down your cauldrons and get out!" he told his students. "You're dismissed for the day!"

Harry and the others were happy to comply. They quickly gathered their things, turned off their ranges, and left their half-baked brews to cool on their own. Once they were gone, the Professor went into his store and retrieved a burlap sack. Using a pair of tongs, he dropped the gob of flesh into it and cast the sack into the hearth behind his desk.

"Incendio!" he hissed, sending the bag up in flames.

* * *

**A/C:** *gag*

FYI: This chapter was a quick-post. If you see any errors, feel free to point them out!


	10. Chitchat

Brandishing his lit wand tightly, Professor Snape patrolled the third level. He hoped to stumble across at least one rule breaker that evening, but it was nearly midnight and his search had proved fruitless. The need to browbeat came after hours of tedious cleaning and warding, but at least his lab wasn't hiding any more surprises. Much to his annoyance, he was confident that news of the little prank had spread. It was probably the topic of dinner conversation at every table that night!

"Professor Snape," a voice called out.

Severus stopped and turned back. He held up his wand, letting its glow fill the darkness until his eyes fell on a familiar face at the end of the corridor.

"Headmaster," he said with a curt nod, mildly surprised to see him out of bed.

Dumbledore emerged from the darkness and strolled into the wand-light.

"Patrolling rather late, aren't we?" he said in the way of an opener.

Snape shrugged.

"I couldn't sleep," he boringly replied. "And you? I don't recall ever seeing you wander the corridors this late."

Albus's eyes twinkled amusingly. Despite his ineffectiveness at controlling Voldemort's long-time informant, he rather liked that he possessed the power to get under his skin.

"I'm an old man, Professor. I don't sleep well," he told him. "You see, I'm plagued with voices."

"Voices?"

"Yes, the voices of students, teachers, Ministry problems ... they haunt me at night. It would help if I didn't pay so close attention, but I like to watch and listen."

Snape exhaled and made a show of examining the corridor ahead. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture and if that's where Albus was headed, he was in for a short talk. They had agreed that he would keep his extracurricular activities to a minimum. That was it! There was no need to pretend as if he wasn't operating. He had nothing to hide. Let the old pervert watch if it pleased him.

"As you can see…" said Snape, pretending to be absorbed in the nooks and crannies.

"I heard about the incident today," Dumbledore hurried to say before his employee could cut and run. "Involving some kind of grotesque blob?"

Snape bristled.

"A heart … taken from a large animal," he said irritably.

He should've have guessed that the old man wanted to rub his nose in the prank.

"Interesting," said Dumbledore, appearing genuinely disturbed. "How long was it there?"

"It was in the early stages of decomposition when it fell out of the cupboard so if I had to guess, a day or so. It was absolutely putrid! Hence, the class's early dismal."

"Thank you for that, Professor. I realize it's not in your nature to be sympathetic …"

Severus neglected to mention that he only did it so they didn't puke on his floor.

"It was a devious Halloween prank. I'll find the person responsible. If I have too, I'll punish everyone with extra homework until someone comes clean. It's nothing to be concerned about, Headmaster. I have it well under control."

Dumbledore peered over his glasses doubtfully.

"Halloween prank, you say? I wouldn't be so sure about that," he grimly put forth.

This earned him a look of interest from the dark man glaring down his large nose.

"Hagrid stumbled onto a rather ugly scene this morning in the woods. I haven't told the other teachers because I didn't want to alarm them … you know how they talk."

Snape couldn't be sure why the Headmaster was sharing this tidbit with him, but he sensed it wasn't a trick. The sober expression on his face suggested concern.

"He found a dead Thestral in the forest. Its heart had been carved out. According to Hagrid, the animal had been dead a day or two, but the marks were fresh. Whoever removed the heart did it before sunrise."

A look of astonishment overpowered the wizard's snarky skepticism.

"Frankly, that doesn't sound like a Halloween prank to me," said Dumbledore. "Professor, has there been a change in your routine lately? Have you upset someone … more than usual, I mean. Can you think of anyone who might be trying to send you a message?"

Severus blinked away his astonishment and observed the wizard peculiarly. The insinuation didn't upset him, but his willingness to help was baffling. Of course, it crossed his mind that he was feigning sincerity; that the Headmaster was toying with him for some reason, but somehow that explanation didn't quite fit.

Seconds later, Nettles came to mind. Severus had a hard time believing that she was capable of such a thing. She simply wasn't the type. An overly emotional brat maybe, but not a dark witch. Moreover, he wasn't sure if he wanted to share the intimate details of his private life. He would rather the Headmaster not know about his less than stellar conduct and the ending that followed.

"I'm not Mr. Popularity," he snorted. "It could be anyone, but I'll look into it."

"Of course," said Albus with a tired smile. "Well, it's getting late. I should be off. Please try to get some sleep, won't you? After all, tomorrow's another day and point deduction is a class away! Good night, Professor."

Smiling, the old wizard turned down the corridor, leaving the Potions Master to stew alone. He may have disapproved of him on principle, but in all the years he'd known him, he had yet to report his activities to the High Chancellor. Most Death Eaters would have jumped at the opportunity, reporting the least infraction, but not Snape. Despite his misgivings, he long suspected that Severus wasn't as loyal to Voldemort as everyone seemed to think.

* * *

Hermione and Dean worked on their individual assignments while their Potions Master strolled around the lab performing his routine checks. Amortentia wasn't particularly dangerous, at least during the brewing phase, but it gave him something to do. He also wanted to keep an eye on the Slytherin table. Many of them were behind on the books that term. He had helped them as much as he could, but at some point, they had to do the work. Incidentally, almost everyone, including his Slytherins, elected the easier potion.

_How disappointing,_ he exhaled, noting that Granger, Thomas, and the Ravenclaws were the only ones working on Amortentia.

Amidst his stroll, Snape glanced at Amber working alongside Patel and Jones. She seemed engrossed in her assignment, completely oblivious to his presence; the model student. Something about the picturesque scene made him scoff. Days earlier she was on her knees, greedily having her way with his cock until the kinky git in him decided to take advantage of her willingness to please. Merlin knows it had been pleasurable, but he didn't enjoy what came after.

Right then, Nettles glanced up, almost startling her observer. Their eyes locked, sending a tiny shudder down his spine. The warmth in her eyes was gone. All that remained were daggers, aimed at slicing the tension between them. Obviously, she was still upset. No, Snape wasn't afraid of the girl – just the opposite, but if Dumbledore's suspicions proved correct, his opinion of her would be shattered.

The Professor broke from the witch's glare and continued his inspection. He focused heavily on the Slytherins before making his way to the rear table where Granger and Thomas were working.

Hermione tried to focus on her cauldron, but she found his towering presence distracting. She kept seeing him with his trousers pulled down, bent over his desk, with Amber's face buried between his …

"Miss Granger," said Snape, breaking her concentration.

Hermione dropped her ladle, causing it to ding against the cauldron.

"Sir?" she yelped.

Severus detected her uneasiness and smirked inside. So, his naughty little voyeur couldn't concentrate with him so close? How delicious. Pretending not to notice, he moved in closer to capitalize on her reaction. Dean was so busy working that he didn't notice his partner's face change color.

"How are you _coming_ along?" he asked, studying the witch's profile.

Hermione kept her eyes trained on her cauldron, but managed to acknowledge her teacher with a small smile.

"Fine … sir. It looks a little clumpy right now," she admitted. "… but I haven't added the rose oil."

Snape didn't bother pointing out that her brew was on a collision course with failure. He knew a disaster when he saw one. Not that Thomas was fairing any better. From what he could see, the wizard would need another session or two before he'd produce a winning batch.

"You're stirring too hard," he told him.

When Snape turned back, he caught Granger gazing up at him and snagged a glimpse of what he saw that day. It didn't even matter that she was pretending to be interested in Dean's work and not him.

"Well, if you have any _questions_ …" he said, leaning down so no one else could hear. "I will be around."

Fearing her voice would catch, Hermione offered the Professor a tight nod. He was doing it again; that thing with his voice that made her weak in the knees. Smirking, Snape sauntered away, leaving her to stare after him surprisingly. Of course, she wasn't the only one.

Despite appearances, Amber hadn't taken her eyes off the Potions Master since she entered the room. She watched every move he made, hoping for a sign, a signal – anything that might indicate that he wanted to see her again. Although nothing about the wizard's behavior had changed, from her perspective, he had a new favorite.

Amber felt a familiar sting forming in her eyes. Placing her ladle down, she quietly slipped away from her brew and out of the room. Snape was occupied and didn't notice her slip off. If he had, he would have chastised her for not asking to be excused!

*Minutes Later*

"Mr. Jones – where is Miss Nettles?" asked Snape, suddenly aware of her absence.

"Um … I don't know, sir. She looked a little sick," he answered. "Maybe she went to the bathroom."

"Really?" he snarled, marching across the room. "Everyone, continue your work! No talking!"

The moment Professor Snape cleared the door, a burst of whispers overcame the lab.

* * *

Sniffing, Amber gazed emptily at the stall door. The rat-bastard had a new partner. That's why he dumped her! Did he honestly think that trollop could satisfy him the way she did? She certainly wasn't as pretty OR as noble! She was a brain with a pussy… a dry, boring, wizard-stealing, mudblood vagina!

_Whore …_ she quietly seethed, kneading her hand angrily.

Nettles was a second generation half-blood. Few of her housemates knew that her mother was a pureblood Slytherin and her father, a Ravenclaw – how exactly she ended up in Gryffindor was a mystery. Maybe she wasn't smart enough for Ravenclaw. She plainly wasn't pure enough for Slytherin! Nevertheless, her mother had taught her the importance of blood purity, despite having married a half-blood. Until that year, Amber hadn't given it much thought, but the blueprint for hate was in her veins.

"Miss Nettles are you in here?" asked Snape, standing inside the arch of the girl's lavatory.

Amber flinched.

"Go away!" she snapped. "I'm busy!"

Snorting, the wizard waltzed inside and positioned himself in front of the sink. He quickly spotted her feet hugging the floor in the last stall. He didn't believe for one moment that the moody thing was busy, but for the sake of decency, he maintained a respectable distance.

"Why did you leave class?" he continued, ignoring her sniffles.

*Silence*

"Answer me!" he hissed.

"I wasn't feeling well," a less hostile voice answered.

Snape folded his arms and leaned against the porcelain. He wasn't in the mood for this nonsense, figuring they had settled their business already, but perhaps it was necessary. If she was responsible for what happened in the woods (though impossible to imagine), they had more to work out than a few meaningless shags!

"Obviously, you're upset ... what about?"

Amber's face darkened. The nerve!

"Oh, I don't know …" she shrugged. "It could have something to do with the fact that I wasted my virginity on you ... or maybe it was the way you led me on … or maybe, just maybe it has something to do with the mudblood slut you threw me over for! Honestly, Professor – it's complicated, but I am curious ... how long you've been _fucking_ her? Granger, I mean ... and don't pretend you're not!"

An eerie silence befell the room. Amber briefly thought the wizard had left, probably too ashamed to answer, but it was just her delusions at play. Little did she know that he had encroached on her area and was standing only a few feet away.

"You _listen_ to me," he darkly began, catching the witch by surprise. She hadn't heard his footsteps. "I _never_ ONCE led you on! I told you from the start that there was nothing between us! As for me _f-u-c-k-ing _other people, that's none of your business! Do you understand or do I need to come in there and explain it to you?"

Amber aimed her wand and silently performed a locking charm on the latch. Yes, the Professor could easily undo the spell, but at least she'd have time to ready herself if it came to that. Taking a deep breath, the witch steeled herself and answered.

"Say whatever you want, Professor – I don't care what you do! You can rot in Azkaban with a team of guards taking turns with your narrow backside for all I care!"

The wizard's jaw became lax and his eyes rounded.

"Ha! I wouldn't mind seeing that! Greasy Professor Snape turned over in the shower! Befitting ..."

"That's_ enough_," he spat, wrenching the words from his gut.

Awestruck, Snape stood baffled for several seconds. Shock had overpowered his rage. Who would have guessed she was capable of such thoughts?

Clearing his throat, he responded in a calm, _almost_ apologetic tone, "As I tried to explain before, I truly _regret_ our association and I apologize if you feel … _wronged _somehow, but I need to know - correction ... I _must_ know something. I give you my solemn word that you will not be punished …"

Amber became very still.

"Miss Nettles, do you know anything about a Thestral in the woods? The gamekeeper came across one yesterday."

*Silence*

"Well, do you?"

"Sir, I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied. "I don't know anything about a dead Thestral!"

Severus wasn't sure if he believed the witch. She didn't sound very convincing, but then, she was rather upset. Frankly, he had said all he cared to say and was anxious to leave before she forced his hand. Dumbledore had few options when it came to the occasional shag, but he wouldn't take kindly to him strangling a student!

"When you're finished doing whatever is you're _not _doing – return to class. I'll forgo detention with Mr. Filch _THIS_ time, but if you ever exit my class without permission again, you'll be shoveling horse dung for a week," he warned, masking his discomfort with a snarl.

Snape billowed out of the lavatory, leaving the sniveling witch to finish her cry or whatever it was she was doing. He had no interest in the chit beyond a quick screw and after their little chat, it would take a great wizard and a powerful curse to make him touch her again! Besides, her little fantasy had ruined whatever pity he felt. Yes, he had heard and witnessed worse, but to hear something like that from her lips was the equivalent to a splash of cold water!

Severus was almost to the lab when the obvious hit him like a brick. He was so anxious to escape, he had overlooked it somehow, but now that he was at a comfortable distance, it was screaming for his attention.

"_I don't know anything about a __**dead**__ Thestral."_

Stopping mid-stride, the Professor creaked around and stared at the lavatory entrance. He was trapped somewhere between horrified and livid. A desperate need to discipline the girl ached in his wand-hand. The Death Eater in him wanted to march back inside and rip her from her hidey-hole, but the teacher in him, the part of him that valued self-control, won out.

* * *

Amber never returned to class. Snape was sure to place a "T" next to her name for participation, but took no additional action. He would give her that day to pull herself together; however, she was treading on thin ice. More than that, he was deeply disturbed by the incident over the Thestral. Dismantling as it was, he couldn't justify any complaint since he was partly responsible for the girl's state of mind. Still ...

Hermione noticed that the Professor seemed unusually detached after he came back, choosing to immerse himself in study rather than continue his inspection of the student's work. She assumed it had something to with the break-up that everyone was gossiping about around school. It appeared as if Nettles wasn't taking it well.

The period ended with Snape reminding everyone about their special assignment and his expectations. Dean and Hermione looked at each other proudly. They had already devised a formula. They only needed time to practice it before the due date.

"I'll ask him if we can use the lab," said Dean, packing up his books. "You go ahead."

"No, you go ahead. It's a long walk to Herbology. I have a free period after this and more time. I'll talk to him." Hermione offered.

Dean thanked his partner and followed the other students out the door. Hermione waited until everyone was gone before approaching the acidic looking man scowling over his paperwork. He didn't appear in the best of moods, but that was Snape. Unless he was stripping points, he was never in a good mood.

"Excuse me, sir?" she said nervously.

Snape's eyes drifted upward.

"Yes," he replied testily.

He wasn't angry with the Gryffindor, just her housemate.

"I was wondering if Dean and I could schedule a time to come in this weekend and work on our project."

Sighing, the wizard sat up.

"This weekend? Is there something wrong with Friday? I thought I made it clear that I have that time set aside for students."

"Well, Dean and a few others want to help Hagrid finish getting ready for the Halloween Gala. The party is Saturday!"

Lowering his lids to half-mass, the Potions Master offered the witch a dull look. And? Hermione took a deep breath and continued.

"… and well, we were hoping to work on the project Sunday evening – if that's okay."

It never ceased to amaze Severus the extent his students were willing to go for a little fun, but they always seemed unwilling to exert the same energy for practice and study. Wasn't that more important?

"I'll think about it," he said gruffly, returning to his papers.

Frowning, the witch scanned the room.

"Sir, is there something wrong?" she whispered.

"No," he flatly answered, glancing back up.

"This doesn't have anything to do with ... ahem, what I saw the other day, does it?" she blushed. "Because if it does, I want you to know it's fine. I mean … I understand things now and well, there isn't much anyone can do about it. I guess you're free to do what you want."

Granger's unnecessary and untimely approval amused the wizard.

"Really?" he said, teetering on a chuckle. "I am relieved that you approve. As far as the _other_ day is concerned, my reluctance to entertain your request has nothing to do with that. Like you, I enjoy my days off. I don't particularly welcome the idea of having to babysit you and Mr. Thomas while you play! However, given the time restrictions that I've put in place, I w_ill _consider it."

Hermione offered the Professor a weak nod. She could have done without the sarcasm, but at least he was willing to think about it.

"While we're on the topic…" he added, his cruel silkiness returning. "I was astonished that you stayed as long as you did. Tell me, did you enjoy the show?"

Hermione's blush deepened into something much more noticeable. She was sure they were alone and she was equally sure that Snape was being serious, but his directness was dismantling. He had a knack of putting people off their game! She was still coming to terms with her feelings on his appetites and hers, but since that afternoon when he stroked her sex so expertly; so tenderly, smearing the line between right and wrong, her interest had skyrocketed. She was being handed the opportunity to explore the dirty side of sex on a silver platter from a man that took no shame in it. Yes, wizards talked about it all the time, but they were randy boys looking for a thrill. It's not as if they knew what they were doing or could talk about it with their female counterparts without snickering or boasting. Hermione was sure the Professor wasn't the snickering type. Mentally, he came from a world of ideas typically reserved for smutty magazines and back alley transactions.

"I didn't hate it," she hedged.

The wizard's eyes filled with mirth. That was as close to an admission as he was going to get. At least, she didn't resort to self-righteous denial.

"What was she doing exactly?" Hermione swallowed, heart in her throat.

She felt as if she was venturing out onto a shaky limb that could snap at any moment. She already suspected what Amber had been doing that afternoon, but she wanted to hear him say it.

"Oh, I think you know ..." he chuckled, capping his amusement with a wicked smirk. "But if I _must_ say it, rimming."

The witch broke with a devilish grin. Naturally, she wasn't familiar with the term, but it wasn't necessary. His unabashed tone said it all. He really was a dirty man!

"I seem to recall you saying you liked that."

"There isn't a man alive who doesn't," he replied. "... the ones who have experienced it anyway, but it's a rare treat."

Hermione bit her lip. She wanted to ask more, but now wasn't the time. Snape quickly sensed what she was feeling and cut her off at the pass.

"So … are you going to Hagrid's farce?" he asked, changing the subject.

Confused, the witch blinked.

"Um … ahem, I haven't decided," she answered.

"You should go. It will give you a chance to mingle with the other students well into the wee-morning hours. Of course, I will be out and about ... patrolling the corridors as usual," he said suggestively.

It didn't take Hermione long to catch on. Had anyone told her three weeks ago that she would be standing there, considering the unthinkable and having this 'type' of conversation with Snape of all people, she would've hexed them! As it was, things had changed. Her whole mindset had changed. She always knew she lived in a Slytherin World, but now she was succumbing to its charms, not because she had too or because she was a terrible person, but because she was human. She was still a Gryffindor and perfectly capable of denying herself, but just this once she wanted to see where the road led. She also knew that Snape was a snake. She wasn't a fool and wouldn't be fooled, but knowing helped. She could handle him.

"Maybe I'll see you around," she told him.

"Maybe you will," he replied.


	11. Trick or Treat, Part I of III

**AutumnKiss: **I don't know how long I will be on this site. FFN is deleting MA stories and accounts as they find them. I guess all good things must end. I can't complain. I've had a great run, several years! I really have grown as a writer and I am _extremely_ grateful to my reviewers for that! I literally cringe whenever I read some of my old stories. I'll keep updating until the ink runs dry or until they break down my door and start shooting! "No! No! Don't kill my account!" Much Love, AutumnKiss!

* * *

**Don't hate the writer. Love the imagination!**

* * *

Halloween was the most celebrated tradition of the year. There was a huge feast, followed by music, entertainment, and mingling. Dumbledore and the other teachers often planned it weeks in advance, requesting new ideas from the staff and sending out invitations. Parents and school governors were encouraged to attend. It was a time to honor the history, trials, and triumphs of Wizarding Society. It also poked fun at some of the stereotypes associated with it.

Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were in charge of overseeing the affair. Filius spent most of the afternoon fashioning the Great Hall's skyline with jack-o-lanterns, black candles, and nightly images, while Minerva used a dye-charm to color the drapes. She also added cobwebs to the corridors and placed pagan- themed centerpieces on every table.

Amidst the preparation, Mr. Filch shuffled in with the school's record machine and put on a werewolf recording, which did more to annoy the ghosts than add to the that it was a bit too much, Filius and Minerva politely objected, but Argus was having none of it. After a lengthy debate, they agreed, but on the condition that once the festivities began that he turned the recording off!

It took most of the day, but when they were finished the Great Hall and much of the school had been transformed into a dark wonderland filled with mystery, history, and fun.

* * *

The Prefects waited in the lobby with first years as the teachers and older students situated themselves inside. Once settled, the grand doors opened and the younger students filed forward. The teachers and guests took great joy in seeing their awestruck expressions. Their faces lit up when they saw the lavish ceiling, black décor, and tasty treats; everything from sugary towers of candy to colorful pastries, cakes, pies, and chocolate treats. Excited, a few of them broke form and hurried to their table.

"Slow down! Don't rush!" the Prefects fussed.

Moments later, the Headmaster called the room to order.

"Settle down … settle down everyone," he smiled. "Good evening and Happy Halloween! Please join me in welcoming our special guests and governors tonight. I think I speak for everyone when I say that we are pleased to have you here!"

*Applause*

Severus sat on the corner of the teacher's table burrowing two holes into the guest center. His eyes were helplessly fixed on a face he hadn't seen in years; sitting next to another face that he deeply wished he hadn't seen at all.

James and Lily Potter.

Oh, how he longed to see Lily widowed. Not because he wanted her back, but because she deserved to feel what he felt. After that fateful day, he was dead to her. She treated him as if he had never existed. She moved on as if nothing they ever said to each other or did together meant anything at all. She had abandoned him. She deserted him. He might as well have been dead. He felt dead for years – all over a mistake, a single mistake!

Undoubtedly, the couple was there to spend time with their son. It was his final year after all and since he was an only child, it seemed unlikely they'd have another chance to visit the school.

_Thank, Salazar … _

His only comfort, if any, was that James had to surrender half of his fortune to the Ministry of Magic after the war so he was no longer the esteemed rich boy and pureblood of yesteryear. He had sullied his name, bloodline, and now had to work for a living. Of course, it was "he", not James or the Order, who helped broker the deal to help spare Lily the misery of Azkaban. Her participation in the war had guaranteed them both a cell. Thanks to his influence, she received leniency on the condition that she never practice magic again. Yes, she had her wand publicly broken, but at least she survived. A mercy he often questioned late at night after several rounds of whisky.

Severus continued to observe the Potter couple while the students and teachers politely applauded the Headmaster's speech. Albus was still going on about something, but the wizard wasn't paying attention. He never paid attention. It was always the same dribble every year.

Lily could feel the weight of someone's eyes on her. She knew who it was, but she didn't dare acknowledge him. Perhaps it was indignation or maybe guilt, but the redhead refused to look over. If she could help it, she would avoid Severus Snape at all cost.

* * *

Hermione ate with a group of young Gryffindors. She had arrived late and wasn't able to find a seat next to Dean and his friends. She didn't mind though. She rather enjoyed the teen's enthusiasm. Some of them hounded her with all sorts of questions about her classmates, especially the girls. It seemed Ron, Harry, and Seamus were a bit of a catch among the under years.

"So what's Harry like?" asked Bridget Blackstone, gazing at the green-eyed boy from her seat. "He's so cute!"

Smiling, Hermione picked over her plate.

"I don't know. We don't talk much." She answered.

"And Ron? Ron Weasley? Do you talk to him?" another girl butted in.

"Um, sorry – no …" Hermione said.

Hermione did her best to answer the girl's questions, but they were mostly about seventh year boys. Except for a brief encounter with Viktor Krum in her fourth year, the witch didn't have much experience with crushes, relationships, or the like. Of course, few knew about her and Viktor, but those that did, had no idea how much they didn't know. Hermione didn't fancy anyone finding out that she had shagged the Quidditch star on the eve of his return and that she was probably the first one in her class to lose her virginity. It was also the last time she trusted her feelings. The whole thing had been rather disappointing. Viktor was plain and mechanical, leaving her full of doubt and indifference when he finally climbed off, but he was discreet at least – a real gentleman. To her knowledge, he never told anyone. The awkward affair ended after a few owls.

_What was I thinking?_ She thought, shaking off the embarrassing incident.

Over the years, Hermione managed to purge the night from her mind, convincing herself that it didn't count because she had gotten so little out of it, but it was just her Gryffindor pride playing tricks. She felt a little like damaged goods after that and tried to make-up for it by being the model student both academically and ethically. It was one reason why she found the Professor so fascinating, once she got over the shock of it all. He may have been a greasy, unattractive, incomprehensible snake, but he knew what she needed before she did – before she even realized it! Viktor couldn't satisfy her because he was too cliché, too missionary. It also didn't help that his head was full of saw dust. Maybe what she really craved was a bad boy.

"Are you excited about going to Hagrid's party?" someone asked, drawing her back to the conversation.

At first, Hermione wasn't sure how to answer. She was very excited about attending, but not because of the party. She excited about the rendezvous after the party, the one involving a certain wizard. She decided to accept his invitation, if only to clear the air, but could she actually she do it? Could she really let go and open up? The thought only served to stir the butterflies in her stomach. She had so many questions. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she was sure it would be enlightening.

"I expect it'll be interesting," she beamed, looking over the girls.

"I can't wait until I'm old enough to go!" said one of the boys listening.

* * *

After the feast, Snape quickly exited the Great Hall. He needed to escape the face that had haunted him for so long. It wasn't as if anything had changed. Lily was just as stuck up as ever! She hadn't looked at him once, not even to say hello. Instead, she clung to James's side throughout the entire ceremony as if she feared a leper might jump out of the shadows and touch her! He wasn't some love sick fool – not anymore. He only wished there was some way to convince her of that.

Severus began patrolling the first and second levels, overlooking the classrooms, bathrooms, and Professor Sprout's botanical garden. It wasn't uncommon for students, particularly sixth and seventh years, to run a little wild when the Headmaster entertained guests. Years 1-6 had a midnight curfew, but the older students had special privileges on Halloween, privileges that led them to think that this was a night for nookie. Every year, following the festivities, the school nurse would send for anti-pregancy draught. Maybe if he was thorough in his search, he could spare his stores.

Although most of the students were in the Great Hall, a few had slipped off for a little quality time. Snape honestly didn't care whether the students screwed, but it was fun to catch them doing it. If anything, he considered it a life service; sparing them scores of embarrassment the next morning and for years to come. It also didn't hurt that some of his findings helped fuel his imagination on those cold, lonely nights when nothing else was available.

When Severus finished with the lower levels, he continued upstairs. As he stepped off the stairwell into the east corridor of the third floor, a section scarcely used by anyone due its disrepair and overall spookiness, he heard a rumbling sound. It seemed to be coming from the Master Wardrobe Room. The room was supposed to be off-limits to everyone but staff since it housed the jewelry and robes of former Headmasters and Headmistresses. Some of the items went back centuries.

Snape lowered his wand and eased towards the door. Sure enough, it was unlocked and there was definitely thumping coming from inside. Naturally, he drew the worst possible conclusion. He deduced that a thief was rummaging through the chests. Students knew better than trespass into an area that had been strictly forbidden by the Headmaster.

_That idiot Argus forgot to lock it!_ He sneered, berating the squib for not taking better care of the school's treasures. Incidentally, the door was charmed to except only one key. Spells were ineffective.

Severus listened carefully. The commotion sounded distant, as if it was coming from the parlor just inside. The wizard gently opened the door and moved to intercept, taking special care to close it behind him so not to give away his presence. Gripping his wand, the Professor crept towards the sound. The closer he got, the louder the thumping became.

Snape poised his wand and placed his other hand gently on the interior door. There was a tiny crack so he didn't have to push hard. The door slowly opened to reveal the unlikeliest of scenarios. Gawking in disbelief, the wizard lowered his arm. The two bodies continued, completely oblivious to his crawling brow and budding grin.

A half-naked Harry Potter was on his hands and knees while Blaise Zabini repeatedly crashed into his backside. Scarily enough, both of them were wearing accessories, but none so bizarre as the pointed cone, titled in Harry's face. Apparently, he couldn't keep it straight with all the thrusting. Zabini was really giving it to him!

Snape's eyes traveled down and observed an old bottle scented oil on the floor. It wasn't hard to figure out why it was there. The Slytherin's dark manhood was slipping in and out of Potter's orifice like a shiny bull.

"Sssslow down," Potter hissed.

Ignoring his plea, Blaise clung to his hips and plowed harder, filling the Gryffindor so deep that their dangling bits slapped. Severus couldn't help but feel proud, though a part of him felt strangely disgusted. Yes, he had buggered a few wizards over the years, solely for pleasure, but to watch it unfold between these two was another story. Zabini was a proud pureblood, a complete untouchable and Harry was the son of a muggleborn witch. It seemed like an odd match, never minding the fact that they were from rival Houses and quite popular with the girls!

Snape's smile grew when he spied Potter's small hand, feverishly fisting his hidden erection. He was actually getting off on being the Slytherin's workhorse!

_Tut, tut … what would your parents think if they could see you now, Mr. Potter?_

"I'm so close!" Harry breathed. "I'm going to …"

Grunting, Zabini slowed his pace and began stirring the Gryffindor's bottom. He knew how much he liked that. It made him feel full. It also stroked his sweet spot! Potter's eyes, mouth, and member shot open at the same time, splattering his release onto the dusty floor. He hissed a few unintelligible phrases while his partner became visibly lost in the contraction.

Snape grimaced. He didn't particularly enjoy watching males ejaculate. Some of the wizard's he took got off on being taken – others did not.

Harry was nearing the end of his orgasm when Blaise planted himself and stiffened. The Gryffindor welcomed his release with a long, appreciative _ah _while Zabini rode the shudder home. Snape watched the boys digress into a sated slump, a feeling he knew all too well. It was the most gratifying thing in the world. Out of sheer respect for the deed, he let them have their moment.

The two remained linked as they rested, but only for a minute.

Sighing, Zabini dislodged, allowing his flaccid tool to swing down. He then pulled up his pants and refastened his buckle, smacking Harry's bum in the way of a _thank you_. This gave the Slytherin one last thrill before he rose. Smiling, Blaise turned around, but stopped dead when his eyes fell on a figure in the doorway. Professor Snape, his Head of House, was leering down with a look that could only be described as pleasantly stunned.

Horrified, Zabini removed the gaudy pendant he'd been wearing and tossed it aside.

"Good evening," said Snape, studying Potter's winking anus amusingly.

It looked exhausted.

Clenching, Harry sprang to his feet and scrambled for his trousers. He didn't need to turn around. He recognized the chilly voice immediately!

_Oh, god! _he panicked, ripping off the witch's hat Blaise had asked him to wear.

Too ashamed to acknowledge the elder Slytherin, Zabini hung back and waited for his partner to finish. It seemed to take forever because he was so nervous. He must have fiddled with his trousers and shoes for two minutes! Once dressed, Harry stood red-faced in the middle of the room. He didn't have time to clean up the gooey mess on the floor, but he desperately wanted too. It was calling to him, begging to be scourified. He was worried that if he reached for his wand, it might set the Professor off.

"Well, well, well …" Snape purred, entering the room at last.

The Professor stopped short of the puddle and looked down. Sneering, he made a show of lifting his robes and stepping over it.

Harry winced.

"Sir, let me clean that up," he said embarrassingly, reaching for his jacket.

"No," Snape told him, keeping his eyes trained on the mess before tossing his greasy hair back and glaring at the boy.

Harry withdrew with a stiff nod and focused on an invisible target across the room. Zabini was also unable to look at Snape. He and Potter had been shagging since the start of term. If anyone found out, he'd be ruined. Potter was a half-blood! Harry was well aware of Blaise's reservations concerning his blood status and was willing to guard his secret, if he kept his. It was the perfect arrangement. If his father ever learned that he was into wizards, it might destroy him; or at the very least, break his heart. James Potter had always been the macho type.

"Pray tell, Potter ... what would your father say?"

The apple in Harry's throat began to tremble. He was angry, afraid, and ashamed all at once. How long had Snape been watching?

"I'm sure he would be upset," said the wizard, not looking over.

Snape folded his arms and grinned evilly. This was just too good to be true. He had waited years for something – anything to rub his nemesis's nose in and here it was! To make matters worse, his son was on the receiving end of a Slytherin cock!

"Are you going to tell him?" Harry asked, focusing on the wall in the distance.

Snape stood there, towering over the boy like the boogieman, while glaring down his hooked nose menacingly. His handsome features were a painful reflection of the hate he harbored towards James. He knew what his father was like and how he would react if he ever knew what had transpired between him and Zabini. Although that idea warranted mercy, it wasn't enough. The opportunity to have his revenge on the Marauder that had bullied him throughout school was just too good to pass up. He might be willing if James hadn't also robbed him of only thing that had ever meant anything to him.

Lily.

Hm. Well, maybe it wasn't a complete loss. She had proved to be quite the unforgiving tramp, hadn't she? Still, years of torment and humiliation deserved a turnabout!

"I think he deserves to know the truth," he replied, savoring the fearful flash in Potter's eyes. "Don't you?"

Harry managed to pull his attention away from the wall. He met the wizard's cold smirk with a simple plea. Suddenly, Lily's eyes stirred something in the wizard. It was a stark reminder of how he once begged for a second chance.

"Sir," Blaise interrupted. "If you repeat this to anyone, you'll be dragging me down with him!"

Snape held his position.

"Stay out of this, Zabini!"

"I can't, Professor. You're not just threatening him. You're threatening me!"

Snape snapped around, startling his charge into submission.

"That thought didn't seem to bother you when you were filling Potter for an eye test, did it?" he scolded.

Both wizards balked.

Harry always knew he was bi-sexual. He had been experimenting with boys for almost two years, but Blaise was another story. He was just exploring. He argued that all wizards should try sex with another wizard before ruling it out. At least, that's what he told him on the train when they shared a blowjob for the first time.

Snorting, the Professor considered his charge's request over an exaggerated pause. Had the Gryffindor elected to have his plumbing overhauled by a fellow student from another House, it would've been easier, but bottoming for a Slytherin added a degree of difficulty. Severus knew Zabini's mother and Blaise was chummy with the Malfoys. Being both pure and rich, the Zabini's were popular with Chancellor Voldemort. The last thing he needed was a nasty summons. Still, if he played his cards right, he might be able to overcome the political hurdle.

"But …" he wavered, his face twisting in protest. He hated concessions. "I will forestall my decision for the time being. Thirty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin for breaking into a restricted area! The only reason it's not more is that I need time to think. Now, get out!"

Harry darted passed the Professor, followed by Blaise. Snape stared after the boys for several minutes. His grin slowly returned when he considered what he _now_ knew. James's only son and Lily's precious darling was bottom-whore!

Chuckling, the wizard forgot himself and accidentally looked down.

_Ugh!_ He grimaced.

Snape quickly removed his wand and scourified the mess. He didn't dare touch anything, especially the bottle on the floor. There was no telling how many times Zabini had touched it and where his fingers had been! Instead, he levitated it onto the powder table and flicked the loose articles of clothes back onto the rack.

Once he was done, the Professor stormed out and continued his rounds. If luck prevailed, he would run into Miss Granger before the night was over and end his Halloween on a high note!

_Merlin only knows I could use it …_

* * *

Lily had just exited the girl's lavatory when she spied a familiar, angry form growing in her direction. Snape's billowing robes added ten or fifteen pounds to his slender frame, giving him the appearance of something larger and more intimidating. Not that he needed help in that area. Severus had always been intimidating.

Lily searched the lobby. She knew James was upstairs looking for Harry and everyone else was chatting it up in the Great Hall. There was no escape, except for the courtyard, but that wasn't her style. She'd feel like a coward if she ran away. Instead, the witch turned and steeled herself for the enviable.

"Good evening, Professor," she said kindly.

Snape was halfway to the redhead when she turned around and spoke. It didn't take a Legilimens to sense that she was only speaking because she thought she had too. This was the moment; the opportunity he had been waiting for, yet somehow it all felt so pointless and impotent. Here they were – alone at last, and all he could think about was finding Granger and staying off everyone's radar. Maybe the shock of Harry's buggering hit him harder than he thought.

"Good evening, Mrs. Potter," he replied, stopping in front of the witch.

Lily halfway expected him to address her by given her name, but he didn't.

"How have you been?" she asked, faking a smile.

Severus glared at the mildly aged witch skeptically. He was careful not to seem as though he was staring, but he was. He was searching for a trace of the girl he once knew. She wasn't there. Her eyes were just as beautiful as he remembered, but something was missing. Then again, they hadn't spoken in almost twenty-years.

"I am well. Thank you for asking. I trust that you enjoyed the feast?"

"It was spectacular! It's just as I remembered. Well ... maybe it's a little more elaborate now, but it's a real show stopper!"

"I pleased to hear that, Mrs. Potter. Were you looking for someone?" he asked, checking both ends of the hall. "You appeared to be when I entered the corridor."

Lily blinked.

She didn't know what to make of Severus's demeanor. He wasn't unkind, just indifferent. The last time they spoke, he was on one knee, begging her not to marry James; however, they had gone their separate ways as friends. Moreover, he was a Death Eater at the time and as far removed from her life as anyone could possibly be! Maybe some part of her expected him to be more engaging. The war was over and though another one was brewing, they weren't standing across enemy lines at that moment.

"Um …" the redhead stalled. She didn't want to admit that she was looking for help. "I was just checking to see if James was back. He went looking for Harry. To be honest, I don't where that boy could have wandered off too."

The Professor ballooned with sweet knowledge.

"I just saw, Mr. Potter a few minutes ago. He should be down shortly. I imagine he needed to use the boy's room. He appeared quite bloated."

"Really? Where about?" Lily asked, suddenly curious. "He went missing almost an hour ago!"

"Upstairs …" Snape hedged.

He was sorely tempted to tell the witch that he discovered her darling son doubling as a mayo jar, but a voice told him no.

_Strange …_ he thought.

He knew she deserved it. She just wasn't worth it.

"If you'll excuse, Mrs. Potter … I have rounds to attend too," he bowed.

Lily offered the Professor a bright smile, but inside she was dazed. Her once _obsessive-admirer_ had turned away from her without batting a single lash! The spell she once had over him was broken. He no longer cared.

Although Lily would never admit it to anyone, not even herself, she liked that he loved her – if only a little. Yes, he was a weirdo in his youth; following her around everywhere, leering at her in class, and hanging onto her every word. She also hated that he was into the dark arts, but he was her weirdo. It wasn't as if any decent witches were beating down his door! Could he really afford to be so aloof?

"Severus," she said sweetly, stopping his flared robe mid-stride. "Maybe we could chat for a while? It's been so long."

Void of any tone, he replied, "Has it?"

Lily waited for the greasy, black-haired wizard to turn around, to accept her offer with glowing gratitude. It wasn't that the witch was conceited. She was just accustomed to believing that he would die with her name on his lips. Even James thought that! A fact that still irked him.

"... I hadn't noticed."

With that, the dark wizard resumed his course and disappeared through the courtyard door.


	12. Trick or Treat, Part II of III

The guests departed around ten o'clock, marking the end of the official celebration. Once they were gone, the under years were escorted back to their dormitories. The seventh years convened in the courtyard. Hagrid arrived shortly after and led them across the grounds, passed his hut, and to the pumpkin patch.

"If yur feelin' thirsty, ther's some brew inside," he grinned, motioning towards his door as they passed. "Fair warnin' – it's got a bite!"

Like her classmates, Hermione made a quick detour. She hoped a hot drink might help to take the edge off. Between the chill and her anxiety over Professor Snape, the night was wreaking havoc on her nerves. After waiting in line several minutes, she helped herself to a mug and trickled outside into the crowed patch.

"Hermione, find yur self a pumpkin or a bale – don't be shy!" Hagrid said over the students.

"Hermione!" Dean waved.

Hermione quickly glanced over to find her lab partner and new friend sitting on a haystack next to Potter, Weasley, and Finnigan.

"We saved a seat for you!"

Relieved, Hermione smilingly crept over the rows of legs.

"Thanks," she said, sandwiching herself between Dean and Harry.

Harry acknowledged the witch with a small smile. It wasn't his usual smile, but it did the job. The others just nodded.

"Say, Harry ... when did your parents leave?" asked Ron. "I didn't get to say goodbye."

Ron noticed that his friend seemed a little out of sorts, but he assumed it was over the talk his dad had with him that night. It had to do with his plans for after graduation. Arthur Weasley wasn't nearly so picky. So long as Ron didn't become one of Chancellor Voldemort's goons, he was happy.

"About an hour ago," Harry shrugged.

He didn't elaborate. He was too preoccupied with the thought of Blaise and their encounter with Snape. The humiliation of what happened was running laps in his mind.

"So what did they think? I remember you saying how excited they were."

Harry looked away. Ron was just making conversation, but he wasn't in the mood. Had he not been so desperate to escape Snape's clutches, he would have skipped the party all together. As it was, the old git was probably prowling the corridors at that very moment.

"I don't know," he said in an uninterested tone. "They didn't say."

Minutes later, Hagrid cleared his throat and raised his over-sized mug in tribute.

"All Hallows Eve!" he toasted, standing over a roaring campfire.

The group lifted their mugs and cheered in response. Nearly the entire class was there, each more hopeful than the next. Hagrid's Halloween Galas were legendary!

"Let's see, let's see … where to begin," the half-giant said thoughtfully.

"Tell us a story," a voice said from the corner.

Hagrid considered the suggestion over an exaggerated pause.

"Alright … a story it is! Any requests?" he asked.

"Tell us about Heidi Creed! Professor Binns said she used to haunt these grounds," Lavender called out.

Her friends, Parvati and Clemmons, nodded in agreement, but Seamus and the other boys rolled their eyes in protest.

"Boring!" Finnigan snorted. A sea of nods rose up to meet him. "Let's hear something scary! Tell us about the first Inferi Army!"

Hagrid scowled at the objection. The very thought of the walking dead horrified him. More than that, the students might enjoy the tragic romance between Hedi Creed and the very late, Lord Wilkins – the only graduate ever connected to the royal throne.

"Now, ther' – don't be so quick to judge. The Heidi Creed story is a classic, but best of all, it's true! And it's not all tea and roses," he defended, giving Lavender a wink of support. "Till this day, Heidi Creed remains the only ghost ever to be banished from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

Surprised, Seamus backed off. _Banished?_

Rumor had it that Heidi Creed had leaped from the Ravenclaw Tower, leaving her spirit to wander aimlessly, but he had no idea that her ghost had run amuck. Peeves was the most mischievous non-corporeal being at Hogwarts and he had yet to be banished!

"An excellent choice," an old voice said.

The students looked behind them to find Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick perched on a large bale. They had slipped in without notice. They only hoped their presence didn't unnerve anyone. Providing the students didn't get out of hand, they were there to relax and enjoy themselves, not chaperon.

"The story of Heidi Creed it is," said Rubeus, clasping in his hands together excitedly. It was a fascinating tale, albeit a sad one. "Our story begins in 1803, just after the first snow…"

Smiling, Hermione sipped her ale and listened.

* * *

Professor Snape billowed down an empty corridor lit only by the evening glow. He hadn't come across anything new since his startling discovery earlier that night. Harry Potter was a dirty boy-toy – a Slytherin's boy-toy no less! Who would have guessed? He seemed so much like his father. He hadn't decided how best to handle things, but he couldn't let it go completely; House loyalties aside, he owed to himself to stick it to James somehow.

Smirking, the wizard rechecked the classrooms and popular niches, enlisting the help of the portraits and ghosts for any strays. It would seem the students had all returned to their dormitories, leaving him with very little to do. As he was preparing to call off his search and retire to his office, a shadow scurried across the far wall towards the astronomy stairwell.

Intrigued, the Professor file pursuit.

Severus flung open the stairwell door in time to catch a shadow streak across the far wall. Whoever it was, they were light on their feet – too light to be a teacher. He launched himself up the winding steps and around the corner, stopping short of a full halt when he spotted Hermione Granger waiting in the lecture room. She was standing by the window gazing down at Hagrid's campfire in the distance.

Smirking, Snape entered the room and looked around. The balcony would have provided a better view, but it was too public and far too chilly.

"Good evening," he said softy, careful not to startle the young witch.

Hermione looked back. Wisps of her unbound hair danced in the breeze and she was smiling peculiarly.

"Well, well … fancy seeing you here. Did you abandon Hagrid's little bash?"

The witch rolled her eyes as if to suggest the obvious.

"Mm, I can't say I blame you. Still, it was thoughtful of you to make an appearance. Frankly, I hadn't expected to see you for until after midnight," he said, moving into the light. "Were you looking for me just now?"

There was an evening glow in the room. It was just enough that Severus detected a faint blush on the Gryffindor's cheek. Not unexpected, but a bit overdone. He had hoped they were beyond that point now.

Smiling, Hermione offered the wizard a shrug and glanced back out of the window. She appeared to be looking for someone.

"You needn't worry about your classmates. We're alone," said the Professor, answering her question with a lusty study of her form.

She was in uniform, a skirt no less. Odd ... he could have sworn he saw her in jeans earlier that night. Perhaps, she wanted to make things easy. Skirts were easy.

_How thoughtful …_

Snape bristled uncomfortably when the witch turned and caught him scanning her bare legs. He wasn't ready for her to see his desire, not this soon. It might scare her away or worse, lead her to think that she was in control. She wasn't.

"Miss Granger, aren't you cold?" he asked, disappearing behind a veil of concern.

Hermione shook her head. Severus didn't know what to make of her silence, but he wasn't worried. Undoubtedly, the witch was nervous. Of course, she had no reason to be. He wasn't the type to force himself on anyone. She had to want it and he would need to be sure that she did before he continued.

Severus moved forward, closing the space between them. As he did, he spotted her chest rising and falling, cementing the idea that she was simply nervous. If anything, he found her apprehension sweet and a little intoxicating. Every woman he had ever fucked wanted something in return so fear rarely factored in. Granger hadn't asked for anything, not yet anyway. She was merely curious, which put them on equal footing – a real first.

"Did you want to discuss my liaisons?" he said gently, hovering so close that she could feel his heat. "You enjoyed that last time …"

Suddenly, the young woman's mouth and eyes tightened, surprising the wizard. He saw a flash of something, something that didn't look particularly inviting.

"No? Then what?" he snapped, darkening a bit. "Be specific."

Hermione quickly adopted a more palatable look and moved closer to the window. Smiling, she quickly hoisted herself onto the seal and flung one leg out, straddling it with a wobble.

"Careful!" he hissed, flinging himself forward.

Snape's frown faltered when the Gryffindor rolled back her skirt to reveal her naked, well-trimmed thatch. He gasped when her fingers slid over the mound suggestively.

"Here?" he said shockingly, reneging on his eagerness just moments earlier. "Are you mad? This isn't the _safest_ place."

Hermione drew groan from him when she tilted her head back and sunk her middle finger into herself. It nearly impossible to see clearly with so little light, but the sound it made was unmistakable. He had definitely underestimated her!

Swallowing, the Potions Master cleared his throat. He wasn't about to cock-block himself. If she wanted dispense the dirty talk, he was more than willing to oblige but not in such a sketchy place. After all, he had her safety and his promise to Albus to consider.

A pale hand shot out of the dark.

"Come down from there!" he snarled.

Sighing, the Gryffindor opened her eyes and looked over. Snape's partially clothed hand was open and waiting for her to accept it. The wizard was so grim and ornery that the gesture seemed unnatural. He just wasn't the gallant type!

Of course, he wasn't being noble. Severus just wanted her off the window seal so he could handle his business properly and privately.

Hermione reached for the wizard's palm and swung her leg back over. From there, he guided her to the floor where he possessed the advantage. Severus wasn't a giant, but he was tall enough to tower over her petite frame. Truth be known, his manliness rested much further south.

"Now …" he purred, quickly yanking off his outer robe.

Hermione examined the room as the wizard traced his buttons with perfect speed. In no time, he had undressed himself down to his undershirt and trousers. He quickly shirked his shoes along with the rest of his robes, which he arranged neatly on a nearby chair.

"Well?" he pressed, turning to the witch expectantly.

Severus couldn't risk pissing her off beforehand. Unlike his other conquests, this was completely dependent on him not being a complete git. Well, that and he enjoyed the idea that she desired him on merit and not need. It was a rare treat. Apart from Amber, no woman had ever seemed interested in fucking him for pleasure.

_Amber Nettles …_ he cringed, dismissing the horrid exception out of hand. She didn't count.

Severus finished unfastening his trousers and eased behind Hermione. He ran his hands around her waist and leaned down. If the rumors were true, witches preferred foreplay to straight penetration.

"No one will find you here. Your reputation is safe, Miss Granger," said Snape, gently brushing his partner's hair aside. "It's your choice …"

Hermione gasped when she felt his hand slip underneath her skirt, but she didn't move. She stood idle, allowing him a generous feel of her mound. She even sighed a bit, giving him the distinct impression that she wanted more.

"Bend over," he said, slowly guiding the witch into horizontal "L" position.

He was desperate to fill the Gryffindor for an eye test, but the moment his cock grazed her outer folds, Hermione spurned him like a frightened puppy. Confused, Snape ogled the witch for an answer. His expression was lost somewhere between annoyed and cautious.

"Granger, what is it?" he asked, straining to sound calm. When she didn't reply, his face darkened and he helplessly snarled his next words. "Don't test me! This little game of yours is wearing thin – SAY something!"

Severus's annoyance shifted back to confusion when Hermione turned and ran out of the room. The sound of her feet clamoring down the stairwell was soon followed by the sound of a slamming door. Speechless, the disenchanted wizard stepped back and glared impotently at his deflating tool. For the first time in a long time, a woman had made a fool of Severus Snape.


	13. Trick or Treat, Part III of III

Professor Snape hastened down the dungeon steps. He was finished for the night. Maybe he'd try to sort out what happened with Granger in the morning, but for now, he was finished!

"Bloody chit," he grumbled.

Severus was annoyed for all the obvious reasons; none so plain as a wasted hard-on, but more than anything else, his pride was hurt. Lily was the only woman to have ever pulled the rug out from underneath him. Embarrassingly enough, she and Hermione shared the same namesake. Perhaps, they also took the same perverse pleasure in torturing him. How could he have been so blind? Perhaps, Hermione came to her senses, which wasn't a huge surprise given her overly sensible nature, but it was equally possible that she led him on; that she had no intention of letting him in (so-to-speak).

Deep down, the wizard knew that Lily had never tricked him, but she didn't go out of her way to discourage him either. She seemed to delight in his affection, going so far as to accept his many favors without hesitation, but she never led him to believe that they'd end up as a couple, not really. Severus didn't care for Hermione the way he did Lily, but he halfway respected the witch as a student, a rival, and a young woman; even more since exposing herself as a freak capable of matching his appetite, but her recent behavior had thrown him for a loop. She was many things but trifling wasn't one of them or was it?

The strangeness of what happened ran laps in the wizard's mind despite his efforts 'not' to think about it. Hermione never spoke. Now that he thought about it, she never told him yes or no. He just assumed that she wanted it; that she was there to satisfy some latent fantasy. Was he wrong? Had he forced himself on the witch?

Snape slowed to a disturbing pace, causing his robes to deflate. After a heart-pounding moment, he dismissed the notion with a firm grunt. Granger would have never allowed him that far if she didn't want things to go that far! Still, there was something in her eyes; something he didn't recognize. It was too dark to be sure, but had he been thinking with the right head, he might've acted on his doubts.

The wizard resumed his pace and proceeded passed the empty labs and spare compartments. When he reached the end of the hall, he hooked right, down a lonely canal. Seconds later, he turned right again, down a private stairwell. His private chambers were two levels up from Slytherin House and one level down from the labs. He was close enough to access them both if needed, but far enough away, that privacy wasn't an issue. There was also a hidden passage linking his personal office and work office, which served him well when he wanted to avoid someone.

Snape slowed his approached as neared the entrance at the bottom. Although nothing was amiss, he had the strangest feeling. The teachers and students were either in bed or with Hagrid, but he sensed a presence. Confused, he slowly turned around and glanced up the staircase. He halfway expected to see a silhouette standing in the torch lit opening, but it was empty.

"Hello?"

The wizard's voice resonated upward, but no reply. Of course, he had no reason to think anything was wrong, but something felt off. He had the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

"I must be losing it," he intoned, dismissing the chill with a sardonic snort.

Snape spun around, opened the door, and stormed inside. Incidentally, it was unlocked. No one dare enter his quarters uninvited; even the Headmaster, unless they wanted to find themselves on the receiving end of a nasty hex or a formal hearing with the Chancellor. Not that he was fond of reporting minor problems; in fact, in recent years, he gravitated more towards threats. They worked just well.

Severus stalked over to his nightstand and poured himself a glass of whisky. After throwing back the first round, he quickly poured another and took a seat by the hearth. It had been an eventful Halloween, much more colorful than he generally liked, but maybe a change in pace was what he needed. He had become lull in his tenure, taking less and less pleasure in almost everything. Although things with Granger had hit a wall, the night wasn't without its rewards.

As he sat there, allowing the whisky to take effect, Severus's mind settled on Lily and her magnificent green eyes. Thinking of them, he couldn't help but smile. Almost two decades had passed since he last saw her sparkly emeralds up close and they were just as lovely as he remembered. The rest of her had changed though. She was no longer the friend of yesteryear. With that acknowledgement, came a timely grunt. The beauty was there, but the magic was gone.

"And good riddance," he mumbled, taking another sip of his drink.

It was strange to think that after so much time and grief, he felt nothing but cold detachment; that he was free of the witch. Of course, he had been free of her spell for years, but snubbing her when it was obvious that she expected him to grovel was oddly liberating. It also didn't hurt that he now knew her son's dirty little secret, a secret that he hoped to share with her beloved husband one day! The horror of finding out that his only son was a fruit basket (emphasis on the basket) was too good to pass up.

Glaring into his glass, the wizard's smirk grew.

"The boy sure is durable," he murmured, somewhat impressed by his ability to take a pounding.

Naturally, his desire to expose Harry had nothing to do with the boy. Was he the son of any other wizard, he would've swept the whole matter under the rug with the other Slytherin indiscretions, but this boy was different. He was Potter's son! The shock of it might just break his heart. One could only hope, but devising a plan to leak that information without incriminating his student, would prove tricky. He didn't want to hurt Zabini or his powerfully connected mother.

Severus tapped his finger thoughtfully.

"I should sleep on it ..."

* * *

Hermione slipped away from Hagrid's party undetected. Thank goodness for Hagrid's ale. It packed quite a punch, making her departure easy; of course, making it across the grounds in the dark proved more of a challenge that she expected. The fog seemed to move everything.

Swaying a little, Hermione stopped to catch her breath when she reached the castle's lobby. The Professor hinted that he would be patrolling the second floor around midnight. It was after midnight, but not by much. Smiling, she hurried up the staircase, pausing only to balance herself when it wobbled. When she reached the second level, she searched the obvious places first.

"Pr_o_fessor ..." said Hermione in a shushed tone.

Other than shagging Victor Krum on a whim, this was the wildest thing she had ever considered. She was committed to satisfying her curiosity. And why not? She was sick of being the brainy wallflower all the time. She was legal, technically experienced, and far from the naïve girl everyone believed her to be! Why shouldn't she explore? Why shouldn't she let go? She wanted to be one of his little trysts and experience what they experienced with no shame or regrets. She wanted an excuse not to be a model student for once!

After a thorough search of the classrooms and corridors, Hermione's enthusiasm began to dwindle. Professor Snape wasn't there. Frustrated, she took a seat on the corridor bench and waited for him to show. The closer it drew to 1:00 o'clock, the more anxious she became. Before long, certain questions emerged, questions that led her down a hole of self-doubt and suspicion. Had he changed his mind? Was he not attracted to her? Had he lured her into thinking he was interested, only to stand her up and make her look ridiculous? Was this some sort of Slytherin joke? It certainly fit the profile.

Aided by Hagrid's ale, the witch stood and made a b-line towards the dungeons. She simply had to know! She had to find out whether or not the Professor had been toying with her all along. She wasn't some daft bimbo looking to trade with him! She was genuinely interested in learning about his life and liaisons and if everything worked out, much, much more.

"Sl_ick_ git," she hissed.

* * *

Severus had just drifted off to sleep when a thunderous knock startled him from his pillow. He quickly sat up and looked around.

*Bang, Bang, Bang*

Irritated, the wizard threw back the covers and grabbed his night robe. He quickly stalked out of his bedchamber and into the study, where he paused to collect his wand and his slippers.

*Bang, Bang, Bang*

"STOP knocking! I'm coming!" he shouted, pushing the messy locks out of his eyes as he hurried to the entrance.

The sound of his angry voice pierced the door and the knocking stopped. Sneering, he snatched it open and looked down. He was prepared to tongue lash the bastard on the other side, but his bark and thoughts quickly evaporated when he saw Hermione Granger gazing up at him with two fists on her hips.

There was a moment of silence between them, each seemingly stuck in their own head. For Hermione, the sight of Professor Snape wearing a mid-length robe with a grey nightshirt underneath that exposed his neck, scrawny legs, and hairy feet was dismantling. Merlin, he was pasty – not in an unattractive way, just in a noticeable way. It wasn't weird that he wore pajamas, but the idea that a retired Death Eater preferred muggle pajamas surprised her a lot.

"Oh, did I dis_turb_ you? Apologies_ Professor,_ but now that you're _awa_ke, maybe you'd care to _explain_ why you were asl_eep_?!" she drunkenly hissed, letting Hagrid's ale slip into the nostrils of the man glaring down at her confusingly. "I'm not _one_ of your l_ittle_ tramps ... _you_ ... you can't j_ust_ stand m_e_ up!"

Snape's face twisted into a question mark.

"Granger, I do believe the cheese has slipped off your cracker," he said with more calm than he felt. "What do you mean knocking on my door at this ungodly hour?"

"_Y_ou we_re_ supp_ose_d to me_e_t m_e_!" she said, lightly poking his chest.

Scowling, the wizard's eyes followed the Gryffindor's finger. He examined it over an exaggerated pause before easing backward. Intoxication didn't become her, but it was her saving grace. Had she behaved so disrespectfully sober, he would have docked Gryffindor 100 points and assigned her the most gruesome detention imaginable.

"Granger, you're drunk," he informed, resuming his study of the witch.

"N_ooo_," Hermione scoffed, pausing to straighten her posture. "I mean, _not_ really. I had a f_ew_ _dr_inks at Hagrid's party. Everyone was d_oing_ it ... it was cold outside. Even the Professors …" she hiccupped. "… had _a_ pint."

Severus was familiar with the tradition. He always suspected that it was Hagrid's ale, not his stories, that made his parties so popular, but when he saw Hermione last, she was sober.

"So you returned to the party after you walked out on me, is that it?"

"_Ret_urned … returned where?" she said confusingly. "When did I w_alk_ out on _y_ou?"

Snape made a production of rolling his eyes. He was in no mood for silly games. Obviously, he had underestimated the witch. She was like all the others. Deceitful, calculating, and self-serving; traits he might've found admirable were it not for his current state of mind.

"Go to bed," he told the witch in a bored tone.

"W_ait_! I need to t_alk_ to you. Why _d_id you stand me _up_?"

The wizard scoffed wildly.

"I didn't!" he snarled, widening the door just enough that she could see his face. "This little game of yours is over! You ran out on me in the Astronomy Tower less than two hours ago with no explanation. Then you turned up here, banging on my door! I've hexed more powerful men for less!"

Hermione searched the Professor's eyes. She was no Legilimens, but it was easy to see that he was being sincere; that something had happened, something strange, something involving her.

"You're _e_ither mad, _sir_, or you've been tricked," she blurted, surprising the pools of black glaring back at her from behind the door. "I w_a_s never in the _t_ower. I haven't been _up_ there in weeks!"

Snape, who was a Legilimens, considered her face carefully. The witch was tipsier than a jello mold, but she wasn't lying. He could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes. She was herself again – the same annoying chit he had come to loathe and more recently, lust.

_Polyjuice …_ he thought, sorting out the possibilities as the Gryffindor stood there watching.

If wasn't Granger he nearly banged that night, who was it? Why would anyone go to all that trouble? Suddenly, a face popped into his mind, along with a name – a name he didn't have the strength to utter.

_Say it isn't so ..._ he winced, clutching the bridge of his nose.

"Granger, may we discuss this in the morning? You're far too drunk to be here and I'm much too tired to want you here. I'm not at my best right now. I need to think."

A flood of disappointing feelings overcame the witch. She had finally worked up the nerve needed to meet the Slytherin, burying whatever righteous notions she had about propriety, and now he wanted her to leave? No! She wouldn't let things end this way. There was no telling if either of them would feel the same way in the morning.

"What a_bout_ …" Hermione paused.

The last thing she wanted to do was beg or worse, appear desperate, but in a sense she was; not for her teacher really, only the bliss and freedom that came with experience. Selfish as it was, she just wanted him to finish what he started.

Severus could see that the witch was severely disappointed, a fact that he wanted to remedy, but not at present. He was willing, yes, and it didn't matter that it was late or that he was mildly disturbed by recent events. She was intoxicated. That was enough. He needed her sober.

"I'm sure we can work something out. Perhaps tomorrow or one day next ..."

Maybe it was the door hitting the wall or the weight of a warm body crashing into his, but Severus yelped when Hermione leaped forward and planted her lips on his. She kissed him tightly as she ran her hands through his oily black hair. He clawed the walls for leverage, but the strength of her fervor knocked him for loop.

"Miss …" he murmured, struggling to maintain his balance.

Opening his mouth was a mistake. Suddenly, Severus was doing battle with the witch's tongue along with her petite frame as she wrapped herself around his waist.

"Sstop…" he tried, incensing the inebriated witch even more.

Snape's eyes popped open when she began to grind his crotch. Gods, she felt good. He wanted her – any hole, any position. She was ripe and ready, but now wasn't the time; not while there was a chance she'd regret it. Although his conscience was limited to his needs in most situations, Granger was different. He didn't want to sully their experience by taking advantage of her now. When he finally sank his cock into her, he wanted her awake and aware. He wanted her to know that it was he and not some boy making her scream. He also wanted to see her eyes dance, squeal, and plead with the full knowledge of who she was fucking.

"Enough!" he hissed, tearing himself from her mouth.

"Get off, now!"

Still clinging, Hermione drew back from the wizard.

"It's _o_kay. I'm ready … I _want_ this," she told him, leaning down for another kiss. "And don't worry. I'm not a virgin …"

Hermione managed to graze his lips before he turned away.

"Stop, please …"

"You w_ant_ me," she whispered, grinding him slowly. The groan he made was unmistakable. He was also harder than an ice sickle. "F_u_ck me, Professor – _fuck _me just like the others… the ones you told me about!"

Severus couldn't wait to break the witch in, to see how much she could take, but he had to be firm if he wanted this little experiment in human connectivity to work. Thankfully, the use of his title offered him the proverbial splash of cold water that he needed. Had she called him Severus all would've been lost.

"No," he rasped, searching the witch's brown orbs. It pained him to tell her no. "Not now, but soon – I promise."

After a moment, the witch relinquished her grip and slid down the Professor's frame. She made sure to cop a feel of his sizable cock on the way down, sending shivers up his spine when she did. Had she been anyone else, someone less respectable, he would have insisted that she drop to her knees.

"Goodnight," he choked, ignoring the fact that she was still caressing his length.

Smiling, Hermione gave the mass in her palm a curious tug, forcing the wizard to screw his eyes shut in silent protest. The feel of a large erection in her hand was fascinating, but not half as much as the weakening resolve it had on her partner's face.

"Are you sure?" she asked, circling his bulbous head through the fabric.

Hermione didn't know what she was doing, but Snape's reaction prompted her to try. Gripping his length, she followed her instincts and yanked it. The second jerk effectively brought him to his toes. He helplessly fell forward with a broken groan, either unwilling or unable to make her stop.

"_Yes_ …" he swallowed, bracing the doorway for support.

Hermione stroked the wizard's cock several more times before releasing it and stepping away. Panting, Severus slowly opened his eyes and looked up. All the elements were there; defeat, anger, and intrigue. If they fucked now, she might not survive.

"Well, since you're sure ..." she smiled.

Empowered, the Gryffindor turned and walked out, giving the Professor yet another reason to question his decision to let her go unscathed. The git in him wanted to drag her back inside and break her, but the Slytherin in him knew that he was walking a fine line. He definitely planned to grunge-fuck the smirk right off her face and very soon but not tonight.

"N_ext_ time," he said in a barely audible voice.

Hermione gently closed the door and left the wizard to consider their last moments in the dark.

* * *

Sporting a very black scowl, Amber observed Hermione emerge from the Professor's staircase with a peculiar smile on her face. She had been hiding in the same damp niche since Snape first arrived, hoping she might work up the courage to visit him at some point. Had her housemate not shown up, she would have! Amber listened as best she could, but she couldn't hear much of their conversation. She was, however, able to discern the Professor's refusal. It pleased her to know that he hadn't succumbed to the slut's charms.

_Serves her right, the whore ..._

Perhaps, the snarky wizard had come to his senses and realized that sex without her was meaningless. Still, she had to protect him from himself. She had to make him see that witches were treacherous and no good! Yes, they had a terrible row and yes, he was still upset with her, but she was confident that they'd make up very soon. She was sure she could make him love her again. She had too. After all, he was going to be a father soon.

Amber stroked her still-flat belly and smiled. The thought of him holding their child made her glow with pride. Severus would have to take her back now. He would have to make an honest woman out of her, but how should she tell him? Perhaps, he'd join her for a fall picnic by the lake. Yes, a picnic – that would be nice. She couldn't wait to see his face light up when he learned the news!

_I'm going to make him so happy …_

Sighing, Amber removed the empty vial of polyjuice from her robe and glared at it for a moment. The plan worked. She managed to keep Granger and Snape apart for one night, but the man-stealing tramp was on the fast track to becoming a serious threat. She couldn't allow that to happen. He belonged to her. He'd come to see that in time.

"A picnic," she beamed, excited at the prospect of dining with the wizard. "He'll come around and everything will be perfect!"


	14. Catching a Nut Requires a Squirrel

Hermione awoke early the next day with a throbbing headache courtesy of Hagrid's ale. Somehow, she made it back to Gryffindor unscathed, though she was foggy on exactly how. The last thing she remembered was snogging Snape and the feel of his clothed member in her palm.

"I should stay away from ale," she intoned, noticing that her classmates were still sound asleep.

Hermione slipped out of bed and staggered towards the girl's lavatory. She needed a shower and a good meal, but the Great Hall didn't open for another two hours. Hermione slowly undressed and stepped into the stall. Standing somewhere between groggy and dazed, she let the hot beads of water work their magic. This was always her favorite part of the day, a time when she could relax. She liked it even more whenever she had the shower room all to herself. With that in mind, Hermione thoughts began to wander. A smile escaped when she lazily recalled Snape's reaction to her. She had been rather rough towards the end.

_He enjoyed it ..._ she thought, biting her lip.

Overcome with giddiness and a speck of pride, the witch was moonstruck. It seemed that the Professor had an ounce of chivalry after all. By her calculation, she should've been sore and satisfied, not obsessing over what didn't happen. She began to wonder what else Snape might allow her to do under the right circumstances. Maybe this wasn't a dally. Maybe he was the logical choice. Maybe she stood to learn something from him and maybe, just maybe, he'd let her return the favor. There were all sorts of dirty things she wanted to try, if only once. After she graduated, they'd end their association and move on with their lives as if nothing ever happened.

*Sometime later*

Hermione finished her morning routine with a powerful shudder that left her sated and a bit tired. Smiling, she drew back the curtain and reached for a towel. She was drying her face when she stepped out and onto a bar of soap that sent her crashing to the floor. Unfortunately, no one outside the silencing charm heard her cry out when a heavy rack of toiletries followed her to the ground and landed on top.

*Spinning bottle cap*

Sprawled naked on the floor, but still breathing, a small circle of blood began to pool around Hermione's face. She never heard the door open or the patter of icy footsteps as it closed. More than hour would pass before anyone would discover her there.

* * *

Professor Snape awoke the next morning with an unusually large erection and even larger chip on his shoulder. Hermione Granger had slipped through his fingers. Maybe he should've broken his own rule and banged the witch anyway. Despite being drunk, she would have enjoyed it. Wasn't that the reason she showed up? She was looking for a sound fuck! Why did he let her go unscathed?

_Bloody conscience ..._

Severus threw back the covers and proceeded to the bathroom. He kept a few, specially preserved vials in a secret chamber behind the medicine chest. He only used them on those days when a quick yank wouldn't do. The wizard needed satisfaction and for that to happen, he needed imagery. After locating the one marked, _Pigeon Screamer_, Severus summoned his pensive from the closet. Smiling, he wrapped his thin fingers around his erection, opened the vial, and poured its contents into the silvery mixture. The liquid swirled in on itself, forming a clear image of a not-so distant time.

* * *

Snape was twenty-four when Lexie Skeeter attended Hogwarts. She was a busty, pretty thing with goals on becoming the youngest editor ever! She had even interviewed for the position of Junior Editor with the Daily Prophet on spring holiday and word had gotten around that she was up for the job. Although she possessed the drive, she lacked the contacts, despite having a semi-successful cousin in the business. It was announced that another applicant had filled the post less than a week before graduation. Lucky for her, another job opened for a new journalist at Witch Weekly. It may have been a step down, but it was still a step in the right direction.

Young Snape didn't know squat about journalism or Witch Weekly, but he didn't make that plain when Lexie paid him a visit after supper. Like everyone else, she naively assumed that he knew everyone because he was so close to Chancellor Voldemort. Before she knew it, a deal had been struck and Lexie found herself face down on the young Professor's desk. She was a noisy shag, squealing so loud that Severus had to put up two silencing charms to cancel her out.

"Shut up!" he hissed, pounding the witch so hard that her hindquarters jiggled.

Lexie ignored the suggestion and continued to shriek. She had it on good authority that men enjoyed that sort of thing. Since losing her virginity, she knew almost everything there was to know about young wizards. They liked it when she made a big production of their penises and yes, she still called them penises. Little did Lexie realize that Snape didn't like it, despite being only a few years ahead of her in age. In fact, he found her fakery incredibly annoying, not to mention distracting. Ten minutes into the arrangement, he pulled out and stepped back. She was still pining when he stopped. This did more to turn Snape off than on.

"How old are you?" he asked skeptically.

"Eighteen," she answered, glancing over her shoulder expectantly.

Snape knew it was true, but it was still hard to believe. He had fucked whores with tighter canals than hers. Scowling to himself, he opened his desk drawer and removed a long, leather strap. Lexie's eyes rounded when she saw it.

"No – that wasn't part of the deal!" she said, covering her cheeks as she moved out of range.

Chuckling a bit, the wizard made his point by cracking the strap across the top of his desk. She could either take it or leave it, but he wasn't going anywhere near that waterhole without it. He knew a trick or two for downsizing pussy and this was it.

"Then you'll have to think of another way to get what you want," he said darkly. "I won't lift a finger to help you unless you get back over here and lift that skirt!"

Lexie's eyes became nervous. She needed his help. She just didn't have the connections to make it on her own. It wasn't as if Rita was going to help her! Besides, she had shagged for less. What was a little spanking compared to a randy buggering in exchange for a free backstage pass? Skeeter didn't realize that Snape had entered her mind. He witnessed the dirty deed(s) and the guiltless joy she felt afterward each one with a hint of disdain. She was barely legal and already she was a wicked opportunist. Slut or not, she would make Slytherin proud someday.

Smiling awkwardly, Lexie relented and assumed the position. She cooed when she felt Snape ease his impressive cock to the hilt. In fairness, he was shamefully hung for an ugly toad. He was also surprisingly knowledgeable. She figured his expertise had something to do with his status as a Death Eater and too right she would have been if he were anyone else, but in Snape's case, he was just lucky to score. Rank only got a wizard so far. He was still an extremely unpleasant man.

Aiming his hand so that the leather crossed her cheeks evenly, Snape brought the strap down with an audible crack. Instantly, the witch tightened around him, forcing a pleasurable groan from the wizard. Not that he could hear it. Her sobs overshadowed him, but at least her cries were sincere this time.

* * *

Snape observed his younger self and the eager Skeeter girl for more than fifteen minutes before he finally came. Still fisting his cock, he spurted the contents of his arousal into the sink with a throaty grunt. 'Take it! Take it!' he mouthed again and again.

Severus had no regrets about what happened. In fact, he took pride in watching his younger-self pummel the 'now' famous news journalist. As life would have it, the witch did amazingly well after she graduated. She wasn't an editor, not yet anyway, but she was rich and successful – the Queen of romantic advice. Amusingly enough, she bore a strong dislike for her former Head of House, a disdain she made known whenever they saw each other in public. His help wasn't as helpful as she expected or hoped, which left its mark. Snape personally saw it as a lesson – a lesson in negotiation. Know what you're getting before you trade!

"Definitely, one of my better fucks ..." he intoned with a smirk.

The Professor scourified the sink, shaved, and slipped into his usual robes. He didn't have much on the agenda, but he had worked up quite an appetite. He might even get lucky and run into Granger before the day was over. If so, he sincerely hoped they might finally end their merry-go-round foreplay. Granger let it slip the night before that she wasn't a virgin. This came as a relief and a surprise. It also added a degree of permission to their liaison. He wouldn't have to treat her like glass! Not that he planned to post any warnings.

The wizard exited his quarters so hurriedly that he didn't notice the floating envelope outside his door until it smacked him in the forehead. Hissing, he snatched the letter from the air and ripped it open. His mood quickly digressed into something grey and disturbing when he read the message.

o~O~o

_Dear, Severus,_

_I have wonderful news. Please meet me near the Whomping Willow this afternoon around noon. I'll have plenty to eat and drink so you don't have to fuss with lunch. Oh, and don't forget to wear a coat. It's a bit nippy outside._

_Yours Always,  
_

_Amber_

_o~O~o_

"Daft girl ..." he mumbled, noting the use of his first name and the creepy tingle in his neck. "She is working my last nerve ..."

* * *

**A/C:** Snape is a real jerk in this story, but things are about to change.


	15. Dark Horizons

**Don't hate the writer. Love the imagination! **

* * *

Professor Snape billowed through the halls as if on a mission that would end in bloodshed. Those that noticed wondered who he was after and if they knew he was after them. The wizard gruffly ignored the whispers that followed him down the corridor, including those few that belonged to the adult rank.

"Good afternoon," he mumbled, acknowledging his colleagues with a stiff nod.

Speeding away from the castle, Severus hurried out of sight. Hogwarts had two Whomping Willows. One was located near the castle, just inside the yard walls, while the other was further out, towards the forest. He assumed she meant the latter, hoping the daft girl wanted to meet somewhere less public.

The Professor barely noticed the Scottish mist and grey skies. Had he taken the time, he might have noticed that they mirrored his mood nicely. But no, his thoughts centered entirely on Nettles and her summons. He truly hated it when students bothered him on his day off, but even more when that student was a hormonal nutter with a chip on her shoulder! How dare she summon him!

_I should've seen the signs …_ he thought, ignoring the cold wind as he barreled over the next hill.

As he neared the summit, Snape paused to collect himself. He wondered whether or not he was doing the right thing. Maybe he should ignore the girl. After all, he didn't want her thinking that she had any power over him – that she could snap her fingers and that he'd come running! Then again, maybe she really had something important to tell him. He certainly had a few things he wanted to get off his chest!

Lurking behind the trees, Snape noticed that Nettles had situated herself out of striking distance of the willow. This definitely annoyed the sentient beast. Its branches were twitching, aching to smash something. He quietly mused over the thought of it smacking her across the head. It was unlikely that it'd kill the witch, but it might put her out of commission for a day.

Severus took a deep breath, distantly waiting for something to happen – anything, though he wasn't sure what. Maybe she'd shed her outer layer and reveal herself as the horntail dragon he suspected her to be? She was blissfully unaware of his arrival, which fueled his desire to leave matters alone. This was his chance, his only chance to turn back and leave. He could do it. He could ignore the witch until it finally sunk in, but the wizard also knew that running away was a coward's tactic. He created the problem. He had to fix it.

Standing there, Severus studied the girl. Her expression and posture seemed poised. It was as if she was playing out a role or fantasy in her mind. Her picturesque smile never faltered, even after it began to drizzle. She was in some kind of creepy, romantic trance.

_Just lovely …_

Grimacing, the Professor continued.

Amber snapped too when she heard the sound of twigs and leaves rustling a short distance away. Her smile quickly grew to exaggerated proportions when she spotted Snape emerge from the tree line. His robes rolled hard, billowing off his back like a cape. He didn't look happy but then, that was part of his charm. He was her Emo.

The closer he came, the softer the wizard tread until he was standing only a few feet away from the Gryffindor and her out-of-season picnic basket.

"What's this about?" he hissed, tossing her letter on the ground. It was all he could do to keep from tossing it in her face.

Amber didn't flinch.

"Why hello, Professor – I'm so happy you came," she answered, barely acknowledging his foul mood or the crumpled letter. "Would you care for something to eat? I brought chicken salad, cheese rolls, and fruit! I made the sandwiches, but the elves rolled the cheese."

As she unpacked, the wizard made a show of looking around. Did she really expect him to join her?

"You said you had news. Be quick about it," he said with less hostility.

He was still upset, but it might help if he scaled back the venom. Amber poured herself a glass of juice and took a bite of her sandwich. If he wasn't hungry – fine, but she was starving. She had been preparing what she was going to say for hours!

"Lovely day isn't it?" she chewed.

The wizard let out an obscene snort. The trees had lost their leaves, the flowers were dead, and the grass was mostly brown, never minding the frigid temperature and down trot skies. It wasn't that he minded. He rather enjoyed late autumn, but clearly she was reading more into it. And therein laid the problem. Her willingness to deceive herself was becoming frightfully noticeable.

"So you're deaf and blind," he bitterly quipped.

Giggling, Amber swallowed.

"That's what I like about you, Professor! You have a hidden sense of humor! It's a little wicked, but it's there. No one else seems to get that about you. They don't see that you're a man underneath those robes, but I do – or rather, I have!" she winked, rewarding her own pun with a girlish wave.

Snape clenched his jaw and bristled. He despised silliness.

"I didn't come here to chitchat," he spat. "Tell me what you want! And it better be good!"

Amber's face took on a more serious tone as she stroked her womb. She wanted him. She wanted them to be together. She wanted him to need her and to love her unborn child. Most young wizards found fatherhood frightening, but Snape was so much older and childless – surely, he'd cherish the idea.

"I _want_ you," she whispered.

Snape's face twisted several times before finally settling on something terrible. He had never struck a woman and detested any swine that had, but right then a distant voice (presumably his fathers') broke through. He was sick of her games.

"Good day, Miss Nettles," he hissed, rolling away.

"Wait …" said Amber, springing to her feet. "Don't leave, please …"

"I came. We spoke. I am leaving," he told the voice trailing behind him.

"You can't leave. You just got here!" she said, hurrying to keep pace. "Severus – please!"

Snape spun around, stopping the witch short of a collision.

"Don't _EVER_ call me that again! And stop following me around like some deranged little puppy before someone sees you," he embarrassingly added.

Amber's eyes filled with tears, upsetting the wizard even more.

"I'm sorry … this wasn't how it was supposed to be …" she confessed. "I'm sorry for whatever it was I said or did to push you away! Truly, I am ... please don't be angry. There's still hope for us. I know there is!"

"There is no _us_! I don't know what else I can say to make that any clearer!"

"But … I gave you my heart, my virginity … you made love to me … I LOVE you," she told him, oblivious to the prospect of being discovered. The wizard was hers and she didn't care who knew it.

The dark pools in the Snape's eyes rippled with acid. He wanted to grab the witch and shake her senseless, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to control himself. He might just shake her unconscious!

Was this the news she had for him? He knew that young women were impressionable, even gullible, but he never imagined that anyone could be so stupid. The fact that she was crying only made it worse. He hated it when students, namely females, tried to pull the rug out from underneath him by turning on the waterworks. It didn't work on him. She wasn't the first person he made cry. She wouldn't be the last.

"_LISTEN_ to me," he hissed, leaning so far down so that their noses nearly touched. "I DON'T feel anything for you. I've never have and I never will! Furthermore, you don't love me! You can't love me! You're confused – very confused. We _fucked_ – that's it. It's over!"

Squaring his shoulders once again, Snape coldly delivered the final blow; the words that would eventual poison the witch.

"You were _never _worth the trouble."

Something shifted in Amber's eyes, something hard. Severus didn't care to know what. He just assumed he had finally gotten through to the girl.

"Miss Nettles – I'm onto you. I know that it was you that carved out that dead Thestral's heart in woods and don't you dare deny it! Sick and deranged as that was, it doesn't compare to impersonating a student. That, my dear, is strictly against the rules. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Do you think yourself that clever? Well, you're not! You probably still have trace amounts of the polyjuice potion in your system. I have a good mind to march back to the school and inform the Headmaster right now!"

"That'll go on my record – it'd ruin my chances with the Ministry. You can't!" she sobbed, not bothering to deny the charges.

"As if I cared! I'd be glad to be short of you and the school would have one less nuisance on their hands. What else have you done, Miss Nettles? I have sneaky suspicion that you've been busy."

Amber thought back to that morning and all the gossip circulating about Granger's nasty fall. No one suspected her, not yet, but if Snape told – Dumbledore might question it. He was a powerful wizard. Despite his impotence in some areas, she was sure she could never hide the truth from him. If he learned that she was responsible for Granger's accident, he would surely rush to sign the expulsion papers! She had to rid herself of the witch, if only for one day. She couldn't allow Snape or anyone else to jeopardize her future over that man-stealing trollop!

In an effort to appeal to the wizard's humanity, Amber steeled herself one last time.

"You can't tell him, Professor," she said in such a way that drew Snape's curiosity.

"Really? And why is that?" he scoffed.

Amber eased forward, closing the space between them. Snape's first instinct was to pull back but he would not allow her the pleasure of thinking that she had intimidated him.

"Because I'm pregnant," she whispered, croaking the words out as if they were her last.

What little color he had drained from the wizard's face. His eyes soon followed, glazing over like an icy pond.

"You're what?" he rasped, too empty to convey anything but pale shock.

"I'm pregnant," Amber said again.

Right then, a powerful breeze shot through Severus's hair and robes, lifting his greasy strands from his line of sight. Of all the nasty things anyone had ever said to him or about him, this was by far the most evil. If he harbored any doubts about the witch's intentions, they were now gone. What stood before him was a conniving, calculating cunt in desperate need of correction and perhaps a straight jacket.

"Is that so?" he exhaled, unaware that he had stopped breathing.

Amber smiled a comforting smile.

"Yes," she answered.

Snape collected his thoughts for a moment. Obviously, it pleased the witch to think she was carrying his offspring, but the mechanics confused him. How could she think it? Surely, she wasn't that naïve. Surely, someone had the 'talk' with her. Severus suddenly recalled something Minerva said years prior about the girl's parents and how they had died in the first war. Amber lived with her uncle and two male cousins during the summer. Still, she had friends and books. But maybe he was overlooking the obvious. Unlikely as it was, perhaps she had taken another lover?

Snape lifted his chin and glared down his nose.

"Did I ever tell you that I once suffered from a rare blood disease?" he calmly offered.

The sudden change in subject caught Amber off guard and she ballooned with surprise.

"No. Not that I recall. Tell me about it. I want to know," she said, punctuating her curiosity with another smile.

Snape swallowed. He wasn't in the habit of sharing any part of his life, especially his wretched childhood, but it was necessary. She needed to hear this and with any luck, she'd understand.

"I had it as a young child. The healers said that it was hereditary and that my mother had passed on the illness. I was sick for months. My parents couldn't afford to send me to a reputable hospital, one with skilled physicians like St. Mungos so I was taken to a witchdoctor. Obviously, I survived but only after consuming several medieval potions. When I think back on it, I wonder if that led me to take such a strong interest in potions. Maybe I wanted to get right what that whack job had gotten wrong!"

Amber felt tremendously honored that the wizard was finally opening up to her and listened carefully.

"That certainly makes sense. You're a wonderful, Potions Master," she told him.

Severus overlooked the compliment and continued.

"Anyway … after several weeks, many treatments, and countless nights agonizing in my bed, the witchdoctor finally cured me. Of course, I attributed his bungling success to luck more than skill, but here I am – 37 years later. Strange, isn't it? The things we recall. On rare occasions, I am reminded of that horrible ordeal when I walk into a classroom. Can you guess why?"

Confused, Amber shook her head.

"Because, my dear, the treatments left me sterile. I can _never_ have children, hence the lack of protection."

Amber met Snape's admission with spiraling befuddlement. It was as if her world had fallen off a cliff and shattered. The witch ceased rubbing her empty womb and stepped back, subconsciously distancing herself between the wizard and her mistake. After a long pause and no rebuttal, Severus resumed his departure and left the scheming nutjob alone on the hillside.

* * *

Severus was on his way to the dungeons when he spotted Hermione Granger easing down the stairwell. She seemed in pain. Normally, he didn't notice such things but considering their recent encounter, he thought it appropriate to inquire.

"Granger," he announced, observing her slow descent curiously. "Is everything alright?"

Hermione looked over to find Professor Snape studying her strangely. He was staring intently at her head bandage.

"I fell when I was getting out of the shower this morning, but I'm fine – just a few stitches. Madam Pomfrey just released me."

"I see ..." he said in a questionable tone. "How did you manage to fall?"

"I don't know. I think there was a bar of soap on the floor and I slipped. I have no idea how it got there. I also can't say how the storage rack came loose, but Parvati said it fell on me."

Suspicion came natural to the wizard, but there wasn't enough evidence to warrant any doubt so he quickly chalked the incident up to carelessness. If nothing else, it would teach the witch to be more diligent in the future.

"Do you require assistance?" he said awkwardly.

Chivalry wasn't his style, but Dumbledore expected it of his teachers. He hoped the witch didn't read anything more into it than that.

"I can manage – thank you, Professor," said Hermione, easing herself to the last level.

There was a strange silence between them as each privately considered What Could Have Been and What Might Still Be. Hermione was just grateful that she wasn't blushing. She halfway expected too when she saw him again, but his attentiveness and lack of embarrassment helped to ease the tension.

"I do hope that you recover quickly, "he said softly, glancing around to see if anyone was listening.

Hermione brightened. That was as close to sweet as Snape got and much more than she ever expected!

"Should I expect to see you in class or will you be milking the injury?"

Typical. One tiny glimpse of decency, then poof!

"Oh, I'll be there," she smirked, feigning offense.

Snape quickly shrugged off the sentiment creeping into his shoulders. It was unlike him to express concern for a student, particularly those outside of his House. He had a reputation to maintain, but as long as no one saw, he didn't mind indulging himself on occasion.

"Good," he nodded.

On that note, the Professor resumed his course, never spying the look on Hermione's face. Of course, he was still reeling from his encounter with her housemate. Had he lingered much longer, he would've undoubtedly taken his bitterness out on her and that would've ruined his chances. He still hoped to 'have' the witch so he needed to stay on her good side.

"I need a drink," he intoned.

* * *

Several hours and shots later, Severus awoke to a strange, tingling sensation. It took a second for his vision to clear but when it did, he found that he was lying sideways on the floor in front of his hearth. A well-made fire flickered a short distance away, but it did little to counter the chill. Was he nude?

"How …" he groggily murmured, attempting to roll over.

His disorientation shifted to panic when he suddenly realized that he couldn't move.

"Thank god," said a familiar voice. "I thought you'd never wake up. It's almost curfew."

_No … _he thought, horror filling him.

"Nettles … I swear, I'll have you expelled! Let me go this instant!" he choked, too hung over to manage a proper shout.

"I think not," said the witch. "I've been sitting here for hours trying to decide on how exactly I should even the score between us and well, after much consideration, I decided that you need a dose of your own medicine. That's fair, don't you think?"

"How did you get into my quarters?!" he said, ignoring the question.

Amber moseyed into the wizard's line of sight and crouched down. Something malevolent shone in her eyes, something cold and spoiled; something on the same par with rotten fruit.

"I've been watching you, Severus. I know all about your secret passages. Not many people know, but I do. It's quite convenient – no nasty little charms to get around. Honestly, I only stopped by to talk but when I found you asleep, I couldn't resist. In case you're wondering, that's a binding charm you're straining against but don't worry, it will wear off eventually. I hope you're comfortable. I borrowed a pillow from your chambers. Wasn't that thoughtful of me?"

"You goddamn, conniving, little whor_e_! Let me go!" he seethed.

"Tut, tut … Muggle profanity. What would your mother have to say about that? But then, you probably picked that language up from your fifthly, Muggle father!" She scolded. "Rather stupid, if you ask me – to curse your captor, that is. It hurts negotiations."

"Do you have any idea what I will do to you if you don't release me? Can you even imagine?!" he snarled with such vigor that sprays of spit showered the witch's face.

The darkness in his voice was ironclad proof that he was dead serious.

"You'll do nothing," she coldly answered, standing up. "I contacted the First Warlock of the Wizengamot and told him everything. The authorities will be here in the morning to take you away!"

"Take me where? I've broken no laws."

"The Wizengamot will be the judge of that."

Snape scoffed.

"You stupid twat! Chancellor Voldemort assigned me! The Wizengamot has no power over him!"

"Yes, I know. We all know," she said boringly. "However, that was years ago. A lot has happened since then and the Dark Lord needs the public's support if he wants to infiltrate Parliament. You may not be a Death Eater, but you still belong to his inner circle and he can't have a dirty scandal besmirching his noble office. Such a thing might cause people to question his leadership!"

*Silence*

"I've broken no laws," Severus repeated with less confidence.

"Maybe not, but I told them how you coerced me. Maybe it wasn't rape. Maybe it was love, but I'm betting they'll say that you abused your position!"

Snape screwed his eyes shut – trying to block out the onslaught of public disapproval. He had lived many years as an untouchable and though his escapades had been few overall, they had been outside the social norm. Should Voldemort withdraw his support as he was inclined to do with those that were of little or no use, it wouldn't be long before the wolves came calling.

Severus was a deeply private man with deeply private tastes. Some of his needs may have been mildly debauched, but it was all consensual with everyone getting something they wanted from the deal. Having his exploits on display with no means of protection was terrifying. Once the media finished spinning the story, he'd be lucky to escape Azkaban!

"We'll be famous together," she said excitedly. "Like Romeo and Juliet …"

Severus reopened his eyes to find that Amber had walked off. She was now behind him. He tried not to react, but a terrible panic overcame him when she reached out and caressed his exposed skin, squeezing his bony hip lovingly. He hadn't felt this unnerved since his days as a young Death Eater.

"I'm sorry about that ugliness earlier," she said casually, rubbing him as she spoke. "It was foolish of me. I should've have known better."

"Nettles …"

Amber's eyes hardened. She was tired of him addressing her like a student. They had been lovers! Before long, their story would be on the lips of every witch and wizard throughout the Wizarding World. It seemed only right that he call her by her given name.

"Call me, Amber," she said. "I insist."

"Amber …" he corrected. "I take it all back. Let me go and I won't harm you. I give you my word – you've won."

"I can't do that – _sir_. You haven't learned your lesson. You said that I wasn't worth the trouble. I gave you everything and you spat on it! You treated me like _dirt_."

Snape's mind exploded with obscenities, but his mouth chuckled. Already his words were coming back to haunt him.

"Oh, I see. You think I'm a joke – is that it? Poor little fat girl! She should've been happy with your cock, is that it?"

The wizard's amusement dissolved.

"Don't be absurd! I never – "he angrily rasped, stopping himself short of a lie. He had never given any thought to her figure, but he regularly thought she should have been content with their arrangement. "You should know better. It was just a fling! Why can't you understand that?"

Amber removed her hand and turned away. Snape had no clue what she was doing, but something told him not to ask. She still had time to change her mind. His uncharacteristic optimism took a turn when he felt his cheeks spread.

"Amber …" he said, glaring into the fire.

His eyes bulged when a lubed device, presumably a dildo, pressed against his anus. He couldn't move his torso, legs, or arms but his ability to clench was still there. He shouted every swear word his father had ever taught him, but nothing he said had any impact on the witch. She was deaf to his threats.

"Shh, now ... just relax," she told him, flicking her wrist.

The wizard was tighter than a goblin's fist around a galleon.

"I heard that it hurts less if you just relax."

Snape bit his lip and silently braced himself. He refused to give the witch what she wanted. He refused to surrender. Amber playfully circled the device clockwise and counterclockwise, experimenting with sharp jabs and slow strokes until finally she wore down his resistance. Success came with a broken gasp.

"... you _bitch_," he murmured, helplessly accepting the device to the hilt.


	16. A New Dawn

If non-consent offends you, please skip this chapter. My goal is to entertain, not to offend. Thanks.

* * *

o~O~o

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Tussled and emasculated, Severus glared into the fire. Amber had taken her revenge and left him there to recover. As promised, the charm eventually wore off, enabling him to move again. He didn't bother dressing. He just sat there – his pale, skeletal frame glowing in the firelight. He was a stone, hard and cold. He wasn't unfeeling. He simply didn't recognize the emotion. It wasn't angry. Anger would have been healthy. This was deadlier than anger.

Severus reached for the bottle of whiskey next to him and took a gulp straight from the mouth. Wincing, he slammed it down before take a breathy gasp. She had been gentle enough not to warrant any long-term damage, but he was sore – very sore. He had come to the realization that she had transfigured one his books from his study. Although it laid burned to ashes in the hearth, he could still feel the wretched tool.

Murmuring to himself, the wizard fought the urge to pay a visit to Gryffindor Tower. He was a teacher. The portraits wouldn't question it. They wouldn't bat a lash until they heard the blood curdling screams of a certain young woman being tortured and mutilated. He knew if he moved – it would be the end of him, the end of everything. He would never come back from the evil racing through his mind. Most would assume that they had a lover's spat and that he had killed her in a fit of psychotic rage. A poetic end to a love-sick, deranged, little tramp. No one would ever know the humiliating truth. He'd never allow it.

Severus ran his fingers through his oily locks and cradled his head in an effort to purge the images circling his mind. Most of them were dark scenarios involving Amber's horrific demise and the events that led her there; however, the scene he most wanted to banish was still fresh. Inhaling sharply, Severus sat up and looked over, physically distancing himself from the memory before it could take hold until he saw the glossy puddles on the floor. Closing his eyes, the wizard cringed.

* * *

_Hours Earlier ..._

Severus refrained from making any sounds as his frozen body was continuously rocked.

"Do you like it?" said Amber as she pumped the dildo into her lover's rectum. "Is it big enough?"

No response.

"I _love_ you, Severus. I never wanted this, but you brought it on yourself! All I wanted was your love. I trusted you. I gave myself to you. But I wasn't good enough!" she bitterly scolded, punctuating her words with a painful jab.

Severus squeaked out a muffled curse despite himself.

Amber was drunk on control. She closely observed ever stroke with wide-eyed fascination, glaring over his plum-sized opening and marveling over his tiny, strained responses. Obviously, he was experiencing tremendous discomfort and embarrassment, but she distantly wondered if he was also enjoying it. He was a dirty bastard after all. Could she really make him come? He'd never let himself live it down if he came to his own deflowering. And yes, he had been a virgin. Of that, there could be no doubt. Thirty minutes had passed and his backdoor was still clinging!

Amber reached back and dipped her fingers into the jar of grease she'd taken from the Professor's stores. She then slid her hand across his hip towards his crotch and gripped his soft extension. Immediately, an unwelcome flash registered in his eyes.

"No," he muttered, uncomfortably focused on the device sliding in and out of his canal.

Amber began to violently jerk the wizard, sending his lids into a fluttering frenzy. Severus fought the assault with images of his childhood and time at Hogwarts, but she knew him. He'd taught her well in their short association. It wasn't long before he filled her palm.

"Ooh, what do we have here?" Amber teased, speaking over the fleshy, slapping sound. "You must like this! You do, don't you? I'm not surprised. Everyone knows about you and that Hufflepuff below the Quidditch tower. I heard that you filled him for an eye test, but I had no idea that you actually liked cock! I think you might be sly, Severus. I think you like being buggered. Say it, sweetheart! Say that you like it!"

A small cry, followed by a hateful murmur escaped the wizard. The murmur became a broken grunt when Amber snaked the dildo deeper and corkscrewed him in wide circles. This caused his eyes to become hot and confused.

"SAY it!"

"Take it out," he croaked.

"I will, but not right now. I'm enjoying this and judging by your hard-on, so are you. Big, bad Professor Snape is sly! Who would have guessed? Don't worry, my darling. When this is all over and everyone reviles you, I'll still be here. I'll still _love _you."

Amber began churning the wizard's opening again. Severus did his best to suppress his response, but nothing, not even his skills as an occulmens could stop it. His reaction was purely physical, a result of having his prostate massaged, but that did nothing to lessen the humiliation. He was going to succumb to the ordeal whether he wanted too or not.

Amber flipped between harsh sneers and loving sentiment as she fucked the gaunt figure lying on the floor. The sound of her voice and harsh ministrations filled the room. She was thoroughly enjoying the act of humiliating him, but in her mind it seemed only fair.

"I could have made you so happy, _Severus_ ... I can still make you happy ..."

Snape screwed his eyes shut and let out a deep, feral groan. Several jets of creamy fluid squirted from his battered shaft and sprinkled the floor in every direction. It was exotic and satisfying, yet horribly wrong, even as it was happening. Making his disgrace even worse was Amber. She never let up. She continued to violate him long after she had squeezed every, last drop from tired cock. She abused him both in front and behind for what seemed an eternity. She wanted more than to deflower him. She wanted his pride.

Minutes, maybe hours later, Severus felt the dildo vacate his bowels but by then, he had resigned himself to a catatonic glare.

Standing up, Amber took a deep breath. "That was a workout," she said with exaggerated effort.

Smiling, she sashayed to the hearth and gingerly tossed the soiled evidence into the flames. There was no point in transfiguring it back. The book was ruined. When she turned around, she found a stone-faced Professor gazing brokenly at the puddles on the floor. The discomfort had long subsided and replaced with something else, something indescribable.

Of course, the witch felt perfectly justified. She had showered him with love and made her feel lower than dirt for the trouble. He needed this. He needed to be put in his place! He'd get over it soon enough. He was too selfish of a man not too. Maybe afterwards he could love her properly. Maybe then he would see that she was the only one for him. However, she'd have to break him first. She'd have to make it so that no one would ever want anything to with him ever again. Then and only then, could she be his savior.

Amber gathered her things and walked away, leaving the disillusioned man on floor with his thoughts. An unsettling silence filled the room when he heard her stop and turn around.

"You're going to _love _prison," she told him.

* * *

*Knock, Knock*

Snape stirred from his expressionless state and glanced at the clock. As expected, the knock was right on schedule.

"Professor Snape – it's Albus. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have two men from the Auror Office with me. We'd like to speak with you. Might we come in?"

The Professor took a deep breath and steeled himself. He was in blackest of moods and it showed, but any hate or tension he felt would have to take a back seat to his objective. He hoped to convince the Aurors that no crime had been committed; at least, not to the girl.

"Come in, Headmaster," he replied, mimicking complete calm.

Two large men adorned with special tassels on their robes preceded Dumbledore into Snape's office. A grey mood lingered over the officers as if Severus could expect the worst because they would only believe the worst.

"Hello," Snape said icily.

They each knew why the other was there. Pretenses seemed pointless, but Albus, always the optimist, bide the wizard good morning. The Aurors remained silent.

"Professor Snape, my name is Garrison and this is Wallace. We are here on behalf the First Warlock. The Wizengamot has received a report concerning you and a student named, Amber Nettles. We'll cut to the chase and tell you that she claimed that you and she have been sexually involved for months."

Snape's only physical reaction was a small, facial twitch.

_Months? _

"No. Our association barely lasted a few weeks," he calmly corrected. "I assure you. We are no longer involved."

Stunned, the Aurors glanced at each other. They hadn't expected the wizard to be honest. They figured he'd try to snake his way out of it and make them take him in for further questioning. The accused always did that. They always lied.

"So you admit that the charge is true?" Garrison asked.

Snape was prepared to answer when Dumbledore moved to intercept.

"Gentlemen, Professor Snape is without legal representation. Perhaps, we should hold off on assuming any guilt until he has received counsel," he told them, glancing back at Severus expectantly.

Albus sensed that the men were ignorant of Snape's position as Voldemort's spy, which afforded him the kind of leniency that would have gotten most teachers sacked, but Severus's arrogance would be his undoing. He needn't lie, but he needn't slit his own throat either!

"He just bloody admitted it! What's there to counsel?" said Wallace.

"I've committed no crime," said Snape, squaring his shoulders defiantly. "She consented to sleeping with me and she was of age!"

Snape didn't realize it, but he had pulled the rug out from underneath the Aurors with his blunt defense of his actions. The lack of a school bi-law specifically forbidding student-teacher relations made no difference. He was an educator, a trusted employee, and a respected figure in the minds of the public so how could he possibly think that it was okay? Moreover, the girl claimed that they had been lovers for months, placing their association well before the age of consent. He was scum.

"Thank you, Professor," Garrison offered, pleased that he didn't have to jump through the usual hoops.

Snape assumed that he had satisfied their questions and nodded respectfully. It wasn't until the men moved a little closer that his relief turned sour.

"Your wand," said Wallace, holding out his hand. "I'll be needing it."

Severus shot out of his seat, startling Dumbledore and the Aurors, but before he could make his case, he found himself at wand-point.

"Calm down!" Dumbledore told everyone, noting that Garrison's wand was uncomfortably close to the Professor's jugular. "Just calm down! There's no need for that. This is a school! Professor Snape understands that he is outnumbered. He's not trying to escape for Pete's sake!"

For once, Severus was glad to have Albus around. He was ready to hex both men and he easily could have, but in the brief seconds between demanding his wand and having one pointed at his artery, he had a change of heart.

"Your _wand_," Garrison said tensely.

Snape slowly reached into his sleeve and removed his life and breath. Cutting a witch or wizard off from magic was the equivalent of to cutting off their air supply. Although he would not die, it would feel as though he had.

"Very well," said Snape, deceptively civil. "Here. Take it."

Wallace snatched the wand and placed it into a special bag reserved for confiscated items. Once secure, Garrison lowered his arm and assumed a less threatening pose. He and the Professor had entered a stare off – good against evil, so he was inclined to think.

"Severus Snape …" he said formally, purposely forgoing the use of his title. "You are to be taken to Azkaban where you will await a formal hearing. Should you wish to enter a plea of innocent a trial will be scheduled. I strongly urge you to consult with your attorney before entering a plea. Do you understand?"

The Head of Slytherin House and Hogwarts's tenured Professor visibly weakened. The announcement seemed to rob him of stature and ability to appear unaffected – temporarily anyway.

"I wish to be taken to Chancellor Voldemort," Severus said quietly. "Lord Voldemort will make whatever determination is needed. I work for him!"

Garrison broke with a chuckle, followed by a strange snort from Wallace.

"Is that so?" said Wallace, seemingly unimpressed.

Snape turned to Dumbledore. The Aurors amusement was befuddling, but it was the old man's solemn acknowledgement that gave him the chills. He knew something.

"Yes," Snape replied, bristling back to Garrison's sidekick.

Standing there, Albus took a deep breath. He had always known that it would come to this; that one day the Professor would hit a wall and crumble. It wasn't that he cared for Snape or Snape for him, but they had built something together – tolerance. Now, a new dawn awaited. An understanding that was seconds away from being realized. Severus was a pawn; a powerless, over-the-hill, snitch. He wasn't even an important snitch. His day had come and gone.

"I hate to burst your high and mighty bubble, Mister Snape, but who do you think signed the order to relocate you?"


End file.
